Earthside
by Mallaithe
Summary: *ABANDONED* A postapocalyptic future earth, humanity has fled to the stars leaving their cousins to survive on the remnants of earth. *ABANDONED*
1. History

**A/N -**_Just a note, the re-write is actually being worked on right now. :D I also have a shiny new Beta! Mr. Alec Mcdowell, he's got some Nu-Trek, BSG, and SPN stuff on this site, all worth a read. Thanks as always for reading :D (anything and everything shall be improved in the second incarnation, I am hoping to wait until a few chapters have been polished updated etc before replacing content) If you would like to see the new chapters as they become available they are being posted to my LJ Angel_Ireul :D  
_

In 2060 the human race finally achieved feasible sustainable manned flight and the colonization of the solar system began. In 2107 mankind moved beyond our star and out into neighboring solar systems.

As part of the new expansion intensive medical protocols were established to screen prospective colonists and explorers. During these protocols every human on earth was scanned, probed, and tagged. The protocols discovered two previously unknown subspecies of mankind. The existence of these species was kept quite by the authorities, fearing that the majority of mankind would react violently to their cousin's existence, the coalition of earth governments in charge of the Commonwealth feared for the safety of their colonization program.

The first species, designated Sub-Alpha was perfectly normal in all respects save their life expectancy. Sub-Alpha's could theoretically live forever, if they avoided losing their heads. The second species, Sub-Beta bore a striking resemblance to the vampires of popular fiction. Sub-Beta's had elongated teeth, sensitivity to light, augmented strength, severe allergies to garlic and silver and required a higher protein content in their diets than humans but did not require blood to survive.

The Subs as they were derogatorily referred to in the small circles responsible for deciding their fates were denied access to the stars and doomed to survive on the ravaged carcass of the earth.

The earth while capable of sustaining human life had been sorely abused in the early years of the twenty first century. War had spread over the planet, fueled by a lust for oil and a devastating viral attack centered on the Middle East, it had wiped out nearly half of the planet's population, the first world had gotten off lightly losing slightly less than a third of their populations, the third and fourth world had been devastated. In the power vacuum and chaos remaining the first world had pulled itself together, formed a world government and opened all borders.

The human race would survive; the Subs were banished from the skies and humanity's new future. All newborns were probed and scanned and tested for Sub characteristics. Any testing positive were shipped Earthside, fostered in crèche's run by the same Sub group as the infant and left to their fates. The Subs were the new government's dirty little secret. Rumors persisted as to the existence of the Subs but they were more urban legend than fact.

* * *

Colonel Jezkiel stared at the Nav map. It depicted a two dimensional approximation of the three dimensional area around his command post. It was an approximation but it was pretty close none the less. He watched as the supply ship blipped closer on the screen.

"Status?" He demanded.

"ETA less than five minutes sir." The com officer replied. The command center housed five workstations dedicated to maintaining the integrity, security and alert status of the platform.

Jezkiel nodded to himself and spared a glance for the command center. As the ranking officer aboard the phase one platform he shouldered a great deal of responsibility. It was his duty to insure that the prospective citizens of the new interstellar commonwealth were physically and mentally suited to the new life that waited. He was charged with insuring those who passed the rigorous exams and tests were outfitted with appropriate equipment and adequate supplies to sustain them on their journey to their new homes and insure they had enough to gain a foothold once arriving. It was an onerous task, which garnered little praise. The colony flights had become routine and blasé when compared to the new feats and excitement to be found beyond earth. Jezkiel knew also that at the rate the earth was being abandoned his post would be obsolete in less than ten years. Not that he minded his tour of duty would end before that.

"I want the packages unloaded sorted and stored immediately. That crew has better things to for the commonwealth than loaf around our station. See to it." He growled at his aide.

The lieutenant bobbed his head in acknowledgment and hurried off, data pad in hand to see to it. Jezkiel smiled grimly. The transport crew did indeed have better things to do, like shuttle the sub infants back to the surface and take on more potentials.

Jezkiel loathed the subs, the inhuman results of too much saturated radiation, too much plague, too much pollution . . . too much corruption. The subs were irrevocable evidence of humanity's unclean nature in the past and their resolve to better themselves in this gleaming new future. His smile twisted and turned predatory, he would see that the shipment disembarked without delay.

He moved brusquely down the sterile halls and access points of the station. It was composed of hundreds of miles of tunnels, halls, maintenance crawl ways, crew quarters, duty stations, storage sections, and weapons bays. The station was the only officially armed member of the New Commonwealth Fleet. The NCF was a catchall quasi military law enforcement amalgamation. It was controlled by the Commonwealth Secretariat and answered only to the Head of the Secretariat. The chain of command and rank structure was based on the NATO structure of the early twenty-first century.

His solid boots thunked proudly on the functionally sterile stations plating. He arrived at the staging area for the subs and surveyed the infants. They were placed in tiny bio-crates, their small forms stilled by carefully regulated doses of drugs designed to create a pre-hibernation state. The infants would not be harmed-unfortunately in Jezkiel's opinion- but would remain dormant, not growing, reacting, or metabolizing until the counter drugs were administered on the surface. Jezkiel sneered at the three dozen crates and shook his head.

Jezkiel was tall for a new human as the survivors of the plagues and wars referred to themselves he was over six foot, had blue-black hair and incongruous jade green eyes. His complexion held an unhealthy pallor in spite of his mandatory UV exposures ordered for all long term crew by the Medical Authority. His features were aquiline and arrogant, thick dark eyebrows framed his cold eyes. His thin bloodless lips peeled back from his too bright teeth as he ran a tongue over them. They were oddly small and made his mouth seem overly large and aggressive.

"Sir, the crew is refueling as we speak, they'll be ready to return Earthside within the hour."

"Excellent." Jezkiel grunted, ignoring the maintenance officer. The officer's underlings were hurriedly removing and stacking the large transport's cargo onto self propelled pallets, they then programmed the location where the items needed to be stored into the pallet's system and let it move off. They worked rapidly, sweating heavily in the ambient 72 degrees the platform was maintained at. They were a well organized crew.

Jezkiel waited patiently until each and every one of the thirty six bio-crates was loaded and the transport was buttoned up for disengagement. He nodded at the maintenance officer and returned to his post. It was his way to insure the Subs were loaded and removed from his command as rapidly as possible. He despised them and longed for the days when he could retire to Mars and never think of them again. His green eyes flashed spitefully as he gave the transport one last look before leaving.

* * *

The transport crew was always happy to leave the Phase One Platform. Colonel Jezkiel was a fanatic and a tyrant, the fact that the NCF structure allowed and encouraged his tyranny didn't help. The transport crew were contracted, they were free agents who appreciated the lucrative yet relatively easy task of ferrying supplies and subs. Officially of course they didn't know about the Subs and had signed and sweared against revealing the existence of the subs but unofficially they had been trained to deal with malfunctioning bio crates and briefed on the two main population centers of the Alphas and Betas.

The two main centers were on opposite sides of Old America. The American state had been largely untouched by the worst ravages of the wars and plague. The main cities were devastated of course by looting and fires but the outlying suburbs were largely intact. The Alphas had claimed the Puget sound area specifically, the largely intact secondary city of Seacouver, the Beta's for reasons known only to them clung to the remnants of Old New York.

"Where to first Captain?" the grizzled pilot asked wearily. His captain was a brutal ham fisted man with strict rules and a tendency for violent retribution. The pilot was a smaller leaner man.

"New York I need some tail."

The pilot grimaced, he couldn't fathom sex with a Beta, maybe an Alpha but the Betas were cold and vicious. They cannibalized their dead and lusted for warm human flesh, at least that was what he'd heard. He didn't get off the transport during unloading. The captain insisted he stay at the controls in case of trouble. What trouble the pilot didn't know, they'd been making that run for over a year without any trouble. He input the coordinates for Old New York and turned the transport about. He began triple checked the disengagement had succeeded and fired the engines up. He throttled up and headed out grateful as always to be leaving the platform.

The medic and all around well trained slave tended to the bio-crates. She sighed and made a tick on her data pad. Each of the thirty six were operating at optimum capacity, each infant safe and oblivious. She hated monitoring the bio-crates, they were deeply creepy. She sighed again and flipped the data pad into standby, they had an hour of near atmosphere juggling to do before entering atmosphere and landing at Old New York. She sat on a crate and unwrapped a ration bar. It was tasteless but filling, and cheap. Her dear captain was too cheap to authorize tastier fare like freeze dried packets or god-forbid real food. She made a face at the bar but kept eating. The bar had the unexpected side effect of insuring she only ate when she was deeply, seriously hungry.

* * *

In Seacouver the crèche was readying itself for another influx of infants. Unlike the Beta's the Alpha's unique nature only manifested itself after a violent pseudo death occurred to shock thier system. Since the species had been relegated to earth a mandatory crossing age of twenty-five had been established. This had been a fiercely debated decision, many advocated that the children should decide if they wanted to come into their birthrights at all, but it was counter argued that the children could never leave the earth due to the 'Sub' nature of their genes so they deserved to at least inherit their long lives. Reluctantly the decision had been accepted.

Max Holloway stood at the edge of the landing field. She watched as the transport flared its exhaust and changed its pitch as it slowed and moved in to land. She sighed and keyed her radio.

"Incoming." She grunted and keyed off, a distorted voice came back.

"Right we're on the way." Max didn't bother to reply.

"Welcome home kids." She murmured.

The transport whined and settled on the dirt landing area. Max watched as the crèche's own ground vehicle zoomed out to meet them and load up. The whole process took less than an hour. She maintained watch as the ground transport returned at a far more sedate rate carrying the precious sleeping children.

Max had been an active Immortal as the Alpha's called themselves, long before the changes wrought by the advent of space colonization. She remembered the dark days of the game, the constant threat and danger, the battles to the death. The game still continued but only among those who left the settlement and entered the badlands or those who abandoned the Alphas all together and struck out to contact the Betas. According to the manifest twelve of the babies were pre-immortals.

Max met the handlers in the unloading area. They quickly sorted the bio-crates by sex and status and began taking them into the wakening area. The children had to be gradually brought out of pre-hibernation; if the process were rushed they could be severely brain damaged or die. Unfortunately their deaths would not be permanent; they would become immortal and be trapped in their infant bodies for eternity unless their head was separated from their bodies.

She supervised the awakening of the children and insured each was comfortable in their new home. Max was a hardened killer long before the plague but had discovered a sense of purpose and peace in the compound. These children faced a future free from the inevitable brutality of life as an immortal, the new title of Alpha offered them a new life a new hope for a version of normality previously denied her kind. She would protect them with her life.

The initial room the children were housed in was warm and filled with soft diffuse pinks and reds. There was a soft repeating thump, like a mother's heartbeat pumped in. The children all soon quieted and drifted into natural slumber. There were more than enough immortal women eager for their own child and in a few weeks when the children were strong they would be adopted out to pre-approved men and women forming families. Something Max had thought she would never see in her hundred or so long and difficult years. Satisfied the children would be safe and secure she returned to the landing area and spoke with the captain.

"Captain Hunt. Do you or your crew need anything aside from fuel?"

"No." The captain grunted and sneered at the immortal. The captain did not realize how dangerous Max was. She still practiced her martial arts for the fitness and skill it afforded her as well as the inner peace, and thus was not a person to be taken lightly. Max studied the man, understanding his arrogant loathing, understanding but despising it. The man's two crew members were busy refueling as she looked on.

The woman was tall and wiry, her lean form rippling with tight muscle as she worked, the pilot was a stocky man, short and somewhat soft, but he had kind eyes neither looked toward their captain. Max studied them for another moment before shifting her gaze back to the captain. The captain was another story, he had a build like a cartoon character, solid like brick but broad and tall he towered over his crew.

"See that your crew finish their work quickly." The captain grunted and spat a wad of green goop on the dusty landing field. Max sneered and turned away. She had better things to do than trade low brow insults with a primitive thug.

She returned to the compound and signed out a scout vehicle. The scouts were the bastardized children of an abandoned U.S. Army research program. The vehicles consisted of a low platform with a forced air device and some other fancy feedback relays, it was basically a super advanced and stable hovercraft minus the bag touching the ground, or going near it, or having a bag at all. Although Max would never admit it the craft reminded her of the weird little buggy thingy Luke Skywalker had in the desert of Tatooine. She wondered for a moment if anyone else in the compound would even remember the star wars movies.

She took the scout and headed toward the farming communes. Part of the reason the Alphas had settled in the Puget Sound was the easy access to abundant fishing and the rich alluvial/volcanic soil in many of the valleys. After scraping the layers of housing complexes and warehouses off the rich soil they had managed to bring hundreds of acres of land in to production.

Initially they focused on staple crops like wheat and corn which didn't like the damp on their side of the Cascade Range. So they tried Potatoes, berries, legumes, orchards, lettuce, cabbage, bok choy, onions the list was endless. In the end they had achieved a varied and diverse group of vegetables to serve as side dishes to meals of delicious fresh caught fish.

There were plans to expand east and start ranching and possibly expand into wheat and more corn. But at the moment their population was steady and they didn't need to expand further. Some alphas had argued for the expansion citing the supposed need to open trade relations with the Betas.

The problem was the intervening thousands of miles of highways and roads were not in good repair, many had been demolished by effects of the disaster or washed out or destroyed by erosion. Additionally it was rife with bandits and nomads.

The other secret of the NCF was the fact that some humans had failed to pass the protocols as well, they harbored illnesses or genetic precursors the NCF did not see fit to allow into their brave new world. These people had been betrayed and abandoned in a harsher manner than even the subs. The Alphas welcomed many of the Lost Ones into their compounds but there were rumors that the Betas hunted and feasted on the Lost Ones.

The Lost Ones were the most tragic victims in Max's opinion. While it was unfair her kind had been banned from space travel she was delighted in their new freedoms. They were free to form lasting relationships, free to raise a family, free to live. But the Lost Ones were forced to the fine edge of extinction. She wondered if humanity had ever considered a day when they would be the minority on earth.

She checked the controls and adjusted the course. She wanted to insure the rice crop had been planted according to schedule. As she approached the field she felt the familiar tingling ripple of her own kind's presence. She slowed the scout and keyed it to land. She hopped off and waved at the Alpha's wading through the paddies.

"Hey come to check up on the peons?" Malcolm a younger immortal asked grinning.

Malcolm had been born during the plague; he had been killed by looters after his parents had died. He was seventeen when he died and his physical age never altered. Nonetheless he had risen to a prominent position within the compound. He was their de facto department of agriculture. The kid was a whiz at crop rotation, pesticides, storage, the whole nine yards. He was priceless.

"Ah Malcolm, you aren't my peon, you're just my underling, you haven't achieved peon yet."

"Screw you Max, how're the new kids?"

"Smarter and prettier than you."

"Yeah 'cause you're a freakin beauty queen."

"Don't get jealous."

The two continued to exchange barbs as Max insured the scout was secured and firmly anchored satisfied the valuable transport was safe she headed into the paddies with Malcolm. Malcolm outlined their progress, and their goals fro the season. Max listened with half an ear, content to trust the younger man's judgment. Malcolm was one of the compound's success stories, a borderline psychotic the boy had been resurrected from his traumatic and brutal re-birth into immortal life with such abrupt brutality it had twisted him. But Max's patience and the younger man's determination to be whole again had succeeded in stabilizing him. Malcolm had a wife and they were looking into taking in one of the children. Max loved the younger man and was deeply proud of him.

"So what do you think?"

"You know what I think."

"Max, it's nice you have this blind faith in me but a little support would be nice."

"The council will give you the twenty questions routine."

"That's not exactly what I meant those jerk offs can argue about everything under the sun and not make any kind of real decision. I'm afraid I'm going to fuck up and we'll all starve."

"Don't be."

"Max-"

"Malcolm, I don't have to hold your hand anymore, you're a good man and you're invaluable to us, so get over yourself and hop in the Scout."

"Why?"

"Because its annoying and we have newcomers, or do you want me to move you and Lara down the list?"

"Mac you-" Max ignored Malcolm with a grin and hopped in the Scout. Malcolm hurried after leaving the other Alphas to gossip and finish the day's tasks.

"Does Lara know?"

"Know what? That you're insecure and self doubting? I imagine so but she's smart and tougher than you so she can carry you, no Malcolm she doesn't know."

"Good." Malcolm said and fell backwards as Max goosed the throttle and sent the Scout rocketing back toward the compound. Malcolm gasped some kind of outraged insult and righted himself. Max ignored his blow to her arm and flipped on the proximity radar. She dropped the Scout to a low level high speed mode and began skimming the trees and rocky landscape.

"What are you doing?"

"I saw something on the way in."

"Max, can't this wait?"

"No." She said mildly and ignored his exasperated sigh. She frowned and typed and keyed in a new set of directives, a safety light lit up and a warning klaxon sounded, she absently flipped off the warning klaxon and eyed the terrain as the Scout dropped closer to the treetops and slowed slightly.

"Max-"

"There." She said and palmed the emergency stop button. Malcolm gasped as he staggered forward and barked his shins on the safety rail.

"Max!" He snapped. She glanced over her shoulder.

"Relax, its all ready healed." She grunted and guided the Scout through the tightly packed trees to the cool forest floor below. She slipped the Scout into standby and turned to Malcolm.

"You need to learn to relax Malcolm, all this stress isn't good for you, hand me that rifle would you?" He glared and pulled an assault rifle off the weapons rack on the Scout's safety rail and handed it to her, he took one for himself, cleared the breach and loaded a hot magazine, he flipped the safety on and racked the slide chambering a round.

"No, Max you need to stop being a pain in the ass."

"Yeah well until that happens, cover my ass and grab the radio." Malcolm pulled a radio off the same rack, secured it to his shoulder and flipped it on. He followed behind Max as she stepped off the Scout.

The forest was young, planted by Weyerhaeuser when they were still an economic force in the northwest. It was all evergreen and devoid of most undergrowth. The floor was covered in soft shed needles and low ferns, it was shady and pleasant. Max loaded her weapon and sniffed the air.

"What are we looking for?" Malcolm asked.

"I saw a fire."

"We need to call it in then-"

"A campfire, it looked fresh."

"Maybe-"

"No one has signed out for this area." As a precaution compound residents generally signed out of the compound leaving their area of travel and itinerary at the security center. Max ran the security center.

"Okay, but not everyone does."

"Doesn't mean its an Alpha."

"Max the Lost Ones-"

"Will need our help, if its some of our guys, no harm will be done and –"

"And if its Betas you get to capture them."

"Only if they're a threat."

"Whatever."

"What?"

"You don't take a loaded weapon to go say hi to friends, or rescue some pathetic half starved stubborn Lost Ones, you take a loaded weapon to plug a vampire."

"They aren't-"

"Save it Max, I want to go see Lara, let's go see your boogey man so we can get out of here." Malcolm grunted and glared at Max. She studied him coolly for a moment and shrugged. Taking point she threaded her way through the neat forest and guided Malcolm along with silent hand signals.

She dropped to a crouch and leaned against a tree; she flipped the cover off her scope and studied the area in front of her. It was a well shielded little patch of forest floor, a smoldering fire about two feet in diameter smoked in the center. Next to it sat a battered, stained, and torn hiker's pack. The area was otherwise deserted.

Max gestured for Malcolm to take point and head downhill. He obeyed annoyed but alert and slipped down, after a few minutes they heard the clear chatter of running water. Malcolm slowed and gave Max a questioning look. She shouldered past him and took point.

Finally after another fifteen minutes of stalking they found their quarry. A man in his mid fifties was crouched on the edge of the small river. His back was to them and he was singing softly. Max and Malcolm silently circled around to get a look at his face. They exchanged glances, Max nodded and stepped out of the overhanging evergreens.

"Hi!" She said, her weapon was held across her chest, unthreatening but ready.

The man turned toward them, a straight razor in one hand his face half shaven.

"Would you mind putting that down?" Malcolm asked.

"Are you going to shoot me if I don't"

"No but she might, I would feel better though if you did." Malcolm said gesturing at Max.

Her face was cold and indifferent, her eyes glittering, alert and disturbingly hungry.

"She got her shots?" The man asked dropping his razor onto the gravel riverbank. She cocked her head and grinned, it was more a show of teeth than a friendly overture.

"She'll be fine. Do you have a name?" Malcolm continued.

"How 'bout you?"

"Malcolm."

"Jack, did I do something to piss you people off?"

"Not at all we noticed your fire."

"And that means you show up with weapons from nowhere and interrogate me?"

"Well, yeah I guess. See you've come into our territory, you're welcome to keep going, or we can bring you in, give you medical treatment, maybe some supplies-"

"I'm not a threat to you."

"We know that-"

"Good I'm going to finish my shave and be on my way then." Max flipped the safety off her weapon.

"It's not negotiable Jack. Sorry." Malcolm said genuinely apologetic. The man glared and folded his arms.

"You gonna chain me up?"

"No, but I can knock you cold or shoot you."

"True enough." Jack said and began walking back toward the camp fire and his pack. Malcolm hung back. Max stayed further back with her safety still off. If Malcolm was compromised in any way she could put Jack down with a shot. They ghosted through the trees and back to the camp. Jack sat at the fire and began burying the ashes as Max dug through his pack. She didn't find any weapons or components, nothing threatening just basic foodstuffs and equipment. She grunted and closed it up, standing she allowed Jack to shoulder it.

They reached the Scout soon after and Max watched while he made sure Jack was secured into the safety harness and his bag was stowed in a cargo locker. Satisfied she put her weapon in the rack, locked it down and powered up the Scout. She trusted Malcolm to watch Jack, and in the confines of the harness there was very little Jack could do to cause trouble. She throttled the Scout up to Max and raced along back to the compound. She glanced back once and saw that Jack was an unhealthy green; Malcolm spared her a dirty look but didn't waver.

Max radioed into the compound relating their situation and detailing a security squad to take Jack in hand when they arrived. As they approached the compound she throttled back and changed course for the landing area. Coming into land she noted the security detail. She shut off the Scout and released Jack's harness.

"Welcome to the Alpha compound." She grunted and watched him step off the Scout and into the control of the waiting security team.

"Alphas huh? I always wondered what you lot looked like."

"So, you are a Beta." She grunted. He gave her an unreadable expression and allowed the guards to lead him away.

"Okay, now that you've satisfied your need for weird ass drama I'm going to find my wife."

"Catch you later." Max said and started inspecting the Scout, she needed to do an ops check and refuel it before she turned it back into the depot. She began working humming to herself and methodically cleaning and arranging the various pieces of equipment. Finally when it was in a near pristine state she sat back and keyed it for storage. It powered down and settled into a standby mode. She headed into the main building wiping her greasy hands.

"Max!" She looked up and met Lara's deep brown eyes. She was grinning like a Cheshire cat; she wrapped Max in a bear hug and lifted her off her feet.

"This is the best day ever!" Lara said gleefully and dropped Max to her feet.

"Malcolm done being pissed at me yet?" Max asked smirking and tucking her dirty rag into her back pocket.

"Are you kidding? He loves you, you can't do anything to make him mad, and keep him mad. So come on, we're having a celebratory dinner." Max smiled and held her hands up defensively.

"I'd love to but we have a Beta."

"I know, his names Jack, he's gonna be there."

"He isn't in custody anymore?"

"No, where's he gonna go Max? We're thousands of miles away from any one else."

"Yeah I guess." Max muttered but she didn't like it. It felt off, she didn't trust Jack.

"So you'll be joining us then?"

"Hmm, Oh yeah of course when?"

"Two hours."

* * *


	2. Old Friends and New

"Mac!" Max shouted into the decrepit holy building. The church had been burned during the catastrophe. The only sturdy portion surviving had been converted into a shelter for survivors of the plague. After the Earthside exodus had begun the refugees had moved onto greener pastures leaving the hulk behind safe to molder and blend into the verdant hills surrounding it. But someone still occupied its hallowed though rotting halls.

A man moved in the dim shadows. The sound of soft steps on broken masonry drifted to Max. She was still dressed in her grubby coveralls and boots. A sidearm strapped to her left outer thigh. The man approached, he was wearing a ragged threadbare denim outfit. His long hair was pulled back and secured with a length of rawhide. He wore sturdy shapeless boots.

"What do you want?"

"You know the kids call you the hermit and whisper terrible stories about you?" Mac's deep brown eyes regarded her levelly. She shrugged and leaned against the doorway.

"This place is going to come down around your ears one day." She pointed out, he sighed.

"Max? I'm busy."

"Yeah, sulking, there's no reason for you to hide out here anymore. There are no more hostile immortals, the war with the Hunters ended decades ago, and the Watchers no longer exist." He remained silent and folded his arms.

"Fine. I need some advice. That's what you do now right? Like Darius?" His gaze narrowed and he moved to head further into the building.

"Mac- I'm sorry, no I'm not sorry, but don't go, I- we need your advice." He paused with his back to her. She spoke rapidly.

"We have a Beta in the compound."

"A vampire?" He asked. His strong low voice was still faintly colored with his familiar accent, even after so many decades away from his home.

"Yeah."

"What do you want to ask me?"

"Something is wrong about all this. The whole compound is falling over itself to see him."

"Curiosity is natural."

"Yeah, caution used to be too. Seriously Mac, they're all looking at me like I'm a Nazi because I ordered a security escort for him. They won't even let me send him to medical for clearance."

"We don't get sick."

"Yeah but we bleed and the children can die he's a threat Mac but no one else is ready to see that."

"What do you want to ask me?"

"How do I get the council to listen to me?" Mac laughed a low pained bark of cynical amusement.

"If I knew that I would not be here."

"Damnit Mac, I know you don't give a damn about the compound but we both know those kids are innocent, if those idiots are willing to let a threat into their homes so be it, but those kids deserve protection. This is their only home. They don't get to run away like you or Methos or anyone else, you know the council wants to stop teaching swordplay? I shit you not. They act like we're normal, like the Game, the Hunters, the whole sorry mess is some dirty secret, some shameful act that can be disregarded and filed under really bad ideas for eternity. These kids deserve to know about the world we're bringing them into. What if they never learn about Holy Ground? One day there's a fight over a woman, a beer, anything and suddenly Rainier and the Cascades are vomiting lava and glacial flow all over the damn state?"

"What does that have to do with the Beta?"

"The Beta is a symptom Mac. We are what we are. We live forever and we'll kill to keep living. Those morons want to erase what we are, rewrite history with cuddly kittens and candy rainbows. Trusting this Beta just because he hasn't acted overtly is fucking dumb."

"Agreed."

"So?"

"Max, the council banned me-"

"After you walked out."

"They, banned me."

"This is stupid Mac. You don't wanna help? Fine, just say so, we both know those idiots will never bend their stiff necks and admit fault, not until there's blood in the water."

"So be it."

"I am so sick of this. When we first met you were still an idealist, you survived the Hunters and the War without losing that. If you saw yourself now you'd be heartsick. I won't be coming back here, if you want to divorce yourself from all responsibility so be it. I'll mourn the man I knew."

"Good luck Max." He said softly. She ignored him and left.

Outside she hopped onto a dual sport motorbike and kicked the engine over. She glared at the hulk of the church and shook her head. A red rage was boiling in her chest. She was disgusted by the change in Mac. Once he had been a hero, now he was a broken man licking ancient wounds in a rotting world.

She throttled up and took off the bike fishtailing as she over powered and roared away from the church. She had a half hour ride to go which left very little time to get cleaned up for the dinner.

Max was genuinely happy for Malcolm but her heart was uneasy. She knew in her guts and bones that this was all a very bad idea. The Beta may be harmless but his treatment reflected the weaknesses within the compound. Many of the council and older immortals and all of the younger immortals viewed her and her tactics with contempt. She was the old guard, paranoid, violent, disgraceful, something to be shut away and never mentioned.

She set her jaw and increased her speed. She darted between broken buildings and eroded road surface, veering off path and into the neighboring woods at one point where the road was completely washed away.

She resolved to watch Jack herself, insure the safety of the compound for as long as she could. She knew that eventually even her last few supporters would be powerless to prevent her expulsion. She hoped fervently that the council and the community at large would come to their senses.

In this she had little but false hope to comfort her. Her aggressive and violent nature, her abrupt social graces and contempt of weakness or anything soft had paved a path of hard edges for her. She had few friends, those she did possess were almost fanatically loyal to her but were well known and thus politically isolated in the hierarchy of the compound. Her most important ally was Malcolm.

However, Malcolm's need for validation from outside his peer group – meaning from authority, that is the council- left him open for manipulation. The addition of the responsibility of a young pre-immortal life would further curb his risky decisions. She knew she could not depend on him to help her further, and she would not ask him to.

So as she raced back to the only peaceful place, the only true home she had ever known she began a mental countdown as well. She figured she might have as much as a year before she was forced out, more likely nine months. She would have to insure that her second in command, Gregor, was fit to lead and protect after her. He was far more politically savvy and possessed actual social graces and would be able to navigate the icy waters of compound politics with far more success than she. The fact that he respected her more than he hungered for her position was the only reason he did not yet lead.

She changed quickly opting for a modest gown of a rich cerulean blue. The cloth and dye were manufactured locally utilizing cotton and indigo as well as some shell fish dyes. She looked stunning the blue deepening and softening her jade eyes. The cut was conservative but revealing enough to compliment her warrior's physique while maintaining an illusion of feminine vulnerability. The dress maker had been handsomely rewarded for his hard work.

She slipped on sturdy ankle boots and transferred her sidearm to a concealed holster under her dress. She did not think the Beta would be fool enough to cause trouble during the dinner but she had not lived through such troubled times by doubting the recklessness of those around her. If the Betas were as difficult to hurt or kill as rumored he could reasonably expect to stage something and survive relatively unscathed, particularly if the Alphas were as unprepared as they no doubt seemed. She might not like the council, and resent her treatment by the younger members of the community but she would not allow them to be harmed while it was her duty to protect them. In spite of herself she was at least as bound by honor as Macleod had ever been.

Max checked her appearance and paused to loosen her wild hair slightly. It gave her a softer appearance, less stern. She smiled a dazzling smile into the mirror. Sighing she smoothed her dress and left.

She was determined to be happy for Malcolm and Lara god knew they deserved it. She kept them and the other happy couples and families like them in mind. A happy whole functioning immortal family had been impossible before the catastrophe and plague. She was to mindful of the lonely existence forced on the Alphas previously to risk damaging it now. Still it pained her to see the cold hostility in her people's eyes.

She arrived promptly on time only to find every other guest seated and waiting. She smiled graciously and accepted Malcolm's arm. He guided her to her seat and pulled her chair out for her. She sat airily and locked gazes with the Beta; he was sat across from her.

He smiled pleasantly and inclined his head in greeting. She kept her expression neutral and mimicked his gesture. Malcolm returned to the head of the table and began to speak.

"Lara and I would like to thank you all for coming tonight. This is a truly joyous occasion, as you all know we have finally been selected to host one of our young charges and take her or him into our home as our own child." He broke into a boyish grin, his face lighting up. His hand strayed to Lara's shoulder, he squeezed her shoulder and she gazed at him in love.

Max felt a knife blade of pain lodge in her gut. She loved these people in spite of her utilitarian nature. She loved them and would be forced to leave them against her will.

"To add to the occasion we have a visitor, Jack Huard, from Old New York. A Beta and I hope a friend." The small gathering murmured in surprise and curiosity. Max carefully kept her expression pleasant and blank.

"So I bid you eat drink and be merry for today is a day of joy and new beginnings." Malcolm closed to the encouraging applause of his friends and guests.

After the meal as the guests were mingling and talking Max approached Jack.

"Good evening." He opened smiling.

"I see you managed to finish your shave." An unreadable expression flickered across his face.

"Yes I did. Malcolm kindly lent me his razor."

"I see Malcolm is a very generous man."

"You don't like me."

"I don't know you."

"Nonetheless you do not like me."

"I do not appreciate what your presence here represents Mr. Huard, in order to dislike you I would have to actually know you."

"You think I am a threat."

"No, I think you and your motivations are unknown which makes you a possible threat." He narrowed his eyes and shook his head.

"I told you, I'm passing through."

"How did you make it all the way to Seacouver from Old New York?"

"Very carefully."

"I wonder, would you object if I asked one of my people to debrief you on your journey?" She asked rhetorically. If Jack had any sense he would decline the offer or if he accepted lie through his teeth. Whether or not he had anything to gain from her people she had much to gain by any information he could relate. Travel outside the compound was dangerous and generally unnecessary, thus information about the world beyond the compound and its agricultural areas was extremely limited and usually consisted of fourth or fifth hand accounts months or years out of date.


	3. Career Suicide

"I could but I have to be on my way. I doubt I could spare the time."

"I see, and just where is it you are heading to?"

"The coast. I want to see the Pacific."

"It's just water, and inappropriately named water at that." He arched an eyebrow in a silent question.

"Pacific, it means calm." He nodded and gave her a tiny amused smile.

"I see, still I should be going in the morning." Max felt a lessening of her concerns but did not trust that he would truly leave in the morning.

"Do you have quarters assigned to you?"

"No, I am staying with Malcolm." Max felt a cold lump settle in her gut. She darted a sharp look at Jack, Jack remained impassive.

"I understand you require more protein in your diet than is usual, have you received an adequate serving?" She asked switching tactics. Again an unreadable expression flickered across his face.

"My needs have been met." He said neutrally. She wanted to scream. Jack was far too good at verbal sparring.

"I see, well we also have a well trained medical staff should you need their services."

"A medical staff? I was under the impression that Alphas live forever and are impervious to all illnesses and most wounds." He said curiously. Max smiled.

"Nonetheless, we do have a very skilled medical staff." She said and moved away to speak with Malcolm.

"I'm glad you came Max." Malcolm said happily. She gave him a tight smile and separated him from the group he was speaking with.

"He's staying with you?" She accused.

"Of course he is, who else would want him? Look, I agreed so I could watch him, for you, and guess what? He's been a model guest. No weird behavior, no aggression, he's more pleasant to be around than you." He snapped softly. She frowned.

"I don't like him Malcolm, not because he's a Beta, he's too wary and confident."

"Max he made it across the country, I'm sure he has just cause to be confident and cautious. Would you please let it go?"

"No Malcolm, it's my job to be paranoid, once the council forces me out I can relax but until then every single person in this compound, from the children and the lost ones to you and Lara are my personal responsibility. This Jack Huard is too smooth by half I want him out of your quarters and into the infirmary for observation until he leaves."

"Max-"

"Just do it Malcolm. I'm still head of security."

"If you do this you'll earn even more ill will."

"Yeah? You think that's even possible at this point? I don't want to be the one to say I told you so when that bastard hurts someone, so don't make me cause a scene. You're the diplomat Malcolm, make it happen." She hissed through a smile. He nodded grimly and gave her a hostile look. He masked it quickly when Lara glided over.

"Oh Max I'm so happy you could be here." Lara said and began chatting happily with Max. Malcolm drifted off to cause a scene and force Jack to visit the infirmary. Max excused herself citing work a few minutes later. She did not want to be in the room when whatever Malcolm had planned went down. She returned to her room and changed into her work uniform. A plain set of dark blue pants and shirt emblazoned with the security emblem.

She headed to the security center and logged in. She scanned through the C.C. TV cameras and settled on the cameras in the meeting room where Malcolm's celebratory dinner was being held. She watched as Malcolm surreptitiously knocked over a gas heating plate. It landed behind the banquet table and caught the cotton table cloth on fire. Max watched as chaos erupted, Jack was inadvertently shoved by someone and ended up with a pant leg ablaze. Malcolm heroically put out the flames and saved the day. He began cutting away Jack's pant leg and calling for medical help. Max ejected the disc, slipped it into her pocket and inserted a new one. Malcolm would not be blamed if there were an inquiry.

Max armed herself and headed for the infirmary. When she entered Jack had not yet arrived for treatment.

"I want the Beta kept here overnight."

"Max I am the doctor, you are the head of security, let me do my job." Dr. South snapped.

"South, because I am the head of security you are going to keep that man here, get me? He will be leaving as soon as he is physically able. Until then he stays in here, I will have my people posted at the door, if he does leave here it will be in their custody. Understood?" She snapped. South glowered but nodded. Max would have to insure the men she posted were loyal to her or South was likely to circumvent her just for spite.

"South I mean this, he's a threat."

"He's injured Max; I doubt he's a threat."

"Great when you have my job you can make those decisions until then leave them to me." Max growled. She stood aside as some of Malcolm's guests arrived with Jack.

The Beta was very pale, his skin shone with cold sweat. His eyes were bloodshot and his jaw clenched in pain. Max briefly regretted causing him pain but dismissed the impulse. She watched as South and her team debrided, cleaned, and bandaged his leg. South gave him a heavy dose of Morphine and checked his vitals.

"He should be out for the next eight hours at least." South said coldly. Max nodded and keyed her radio.

"Gregor send Howard and Simon to the infirmary."

"Acknowledged." Gregor replied. Max waited until her men arrived.

"You two are on this door for the next eight hours. Once an hour I want you to check his vitals. He goes nowhere without you and you call in every change and report your status every hour." The two men nodded and took posts inside the doorway. Max gave South a knowing look and left. She was exhausted. She headed to her quarters to sack out.

Max woke an hour later and started packing. Her mind raced through the events of the night and day before. She had burned a lot of bridges; she had shortened her safe zone by months. She packed her most personal and precious items and the most useful. She slipped the duffel bag under her cot and dressed quickly. She entered the silent corridors and crept silently toward the infirmary. She paused at the end of the hall and studied Howard and Simon. They were outside the doors rather than inside and talking quietly. She was bone tired but too keyed up too sleep longer. She wanted to insure for the millionth time that her people were safe.

"Good evening." She said softly, Howard and Simon snapped to attention.

"How are his vitals?" She asked coldly.

"He's stable." Simon said.

"I see, did you personally take his pulse, or did you read the machines? Don't tell me you took South's word." Simon opened his mouth but looked guilty, she pushed past him before he could speak and slammed the door open.

The infirmary was deserted with the exception of a tech cataloguing supplies and Jack. Jack was breathing easily, his machines beeped steadily. Max gripped his wrist and took his pulse. She frowned and turned to the tech.

"Has he been given anymore morphine?" The tech picked up his chart.

"No, just the initial dose about an hour ago."

"His pulse is fast, remove the bandage please."

"Uh, Max, Ma'm I don't think-"

"Remove the bandage."

"With all due respect that is going to cause a great deal of pain-" The tech tried to argue.

Max sighed and pulled Jack's covers back. She gripped the bandage and tugged it free; Jack woke up and jerked his leg away. Simon snapped the lights on and Howard held the tech away from Max.

"This is outrageous! That's abuse!" The tech wailed. Max ignored him and held Jack's leg down. The wound was almost entirely healed.

"Get up." She grunted. Jack glared.

"Don't make me repeat myself." Max hissed. Jack stood laboriously and teetered glaring at her.

"Good. I want you on your way by dawn. We will replenish your supplies and give you a weapon; you may draw coveralls if you like to replace your damaged clothing. But you will be out of my compound by sunrise."

"Your compound?" He asked snidely.

"For now, yes my compound. Not yours, not the Betas. Mine."

"I understand your concern but I really am not a threat to you."

"I'd like to believe you but you have all ready shown you cannot be trusted."

"I can't be trusted; you aren't the one who was set on fire lady."

"That was an accident."

"Sure it was."

"Simon, Howard, if he causes you any trouble let me know." She breezed out.

Howard released the tech who then checked over Jack and covered his mostly healed leg. She ran through his vitals and updated his chart. Howard and Simon stood at the foot of Jack's bed looking menacing and intent.

Max headed for the council chamber after the fiasco at Malcolm's dinner she was certain they would be in session, heads a twitter. She sneered at the idea of confronting the cowardly bunch. Contempt twisted her features, she shook her head and banished her emotions, she needed to be clear headed if she wanted even the slimmest shot at swaying their vote. Most would vote against her out of pique.

She barged in interrupting the Council's Voice. A burly thick figured immortal by the name of Cade. As Council Voice he was responsible for controlling the debates and protocol of the council. He bared his teeth at Max, literally and advanced toward her.

"Be calm Cade. As head of security I have requested that Jack Huard the Beta leave our home by dawn. My men will enforce this edict."

"Max this is not your place-"

"Furthermore, I am announcing that as soon as Huard is out of our home and our lives I am resigning as head of security. Gregor will take my place pending Council approval."

"How gracious of you saving us the effort." Cade snapped.


	4. Betrayal and Salvation

Max held his gaze until he glanced toward the assembled council.

"This is my final act; I hope you will respect it." She said coldly and left the chamber, back straight, head high.

Two hours later she was in shackles and Jack was gone. Gregor had fastened her bonds himself. She glared at him as he insured the mechanism was secured.

"My apologies Max, the council has spoken and charged you with dissent and treason."

"Do you agree?" She demanded. His empty blue eye regarded her.

"My opinion is irrelevant. My responsibility is the safety of the compound and our people."

"I trained you too well." She said dismissing him, he left wordlessly.

She tested her bonds as she listened to him leave. He had insured she would not be able to make an easy escape. But, she would be leaving; she would not stand trial for doing her duty. She fished a lock pick out of her boot and went to work. She let the shackles drop to her bed and began examining the ventilation system in the ceiling. Normally such a system would not be able to support even her relatively slight weight but the building had been designed to withstand a second apocalypse so the ventilation system was concrete shielded with lead and steel.

She wedged the clasp of one of the shackles into the grate and hung her weight from it. She flipped so her feet were against the ceiling and planted her boots to either side of the grate. She locked one hand on the shackles and the other around her wrist and began to use her body as a lever, slowly increasing the weight and pressure on the grate. The grate bent and twisted under the pressure but the seal refused to give way. She ground her teeth, adjusted her grip, and renewed the pressure. Slowly the grate began to slip from the frame, it whined and groaned and at last gave way.

Max got her feet under her a split second before hitting the ground. She caught the grate and tossed it and the shackles onto the bed. She hooked the bed with one foot and dragged it over to the exposed shaft. She stood on the bed and bounced experimentally. Satisfied she hopped in the air bounced violently off the bed and popped into the shaft. She slammed her hands against either side of the shaft, using the friction of her palms and upper body strength she pinned herself long enough to get her body in to position and wriggle further into the vertical shaft. She pinned her back against one side and her feet to the opposite, shimmying higher until she reached a horizontal joining shaft. Wiping her sweaty palms on her pants she slapped her palms against the floor of the horizontal shaft and levered herself into it.

She paused for a moment catching her breath and allowing her bruises to heal. She ran through her memory of the schematics of the compound and tried to second guess Gregor. The problem was she and Gregor thought very alike and would likely choose similar routes. She frowned, she would need to be riskier and possibly injure someone. She sighed and started moving. She decided on the chow hall. It would be pretty deserted at this hour and it had more exits than any other room in the compound. She moved quickly. She was hoping Gregor would not expect her to act so quickly.

Max dropped silently into the deserted dining area she put the grate she had broken loose under a table and crept into the compound. All was dark and quiet. She hurried through the warren of the compound listening for sleeping immortals and basking in the warm tingle of their combined presence. She would miss her people but one day no doubt she would return.

She entered the cool night and listened. Ears primed for any stray sound. Far off a wild dog or maybe it was a wolf yowled and yipped. Night birds and bats even an owl called and shifted in the woodlands. Small creatures scurried and predators padded after. There was no sound or scent of humanity. She sighed and slipped into the night making a beeline for the Scout paddock. A soft cough froze her in her tracks. Gregor stood casually at ease watching her. She turned to him.

"Going to stop me?"

"I can't let you take a scout."

"That's not what I asked." He stepped toward her, his dark hair hung low over his eyes, his blue eyes washed out in the dim light.

"No, but you can't come back Max, ever."

"Gregor-"

"There have been . . . disturbing rumors."

"I haven't-"

"They want to execute you. Huard is behind it, I can't prove it but he had time alone with Cade. Cade runs the council now. You have to go. There is only so much Malcolm and I can do in the face of the council, they will destroy you. Find Macleod, you two are the only hope this sorry lot have."

"No Gregor. These people are too soft. If they want to welcome wolves in to their homes in spite of our warnings then let them get bitten. We used to live our lives with gusto-"

"No, not gusto fear and murder."

"At least then were honest." She snapped. Gregor's faces twitched faintly in an expression of momentary bitterness.

"Good luck." Gregor said succinctly and faded into the shadows.

"Gregor, I won't help you save them." She insisted to the dark. But she knew in her heart that if push came to shove she would, she had to. She cursed and slipped into the woods. She had less than six hours before dawn arrived and her escape was discovered. If Gregor had maintained her guard schedule she could have less time. She lengthened her stride and increased her pace. She paused to check the stars and adjust her route. There was a cache of survival gear twelve miles east of the compound if she ran she could make it.

She hurried along wishing she had a motorbike at least. She could easily make the run but she needed her energy. She was also afraid. It had been decades since she had left the compound. She had helped create it and watched it bloom and fade. The outside, beyond the fields and the local territory beyond what she thought of as the 'Compound' was a foreign and obscenely dangerous place.

She would go to Mac and from there she would take on the Betas. Jack had caused this. Max knew her own actions were at least as much to blame as whatever deal Jack had cooked up with Cade for her expulsion, but the death sentence that was the final straw. As she settled into a ground eating lope she felt her resolve harden and settle. She would kill Jack she would return to the compound she _would_ regain her place.

But mostly she felt hurt, betrayed. She was too hard, too cold, too focused on the larger picture to realize that she was mostly hurt. Her one true home since she had been raped and murdered decades before and introduced to her life as a cursed immortal had been ripped out from under her. And although she was a pragmatist she was still human enough to feel the pain of her situation. Instead of facing her pain and hurt she focused on fixing the problem, repairing the source of her discomfiture.

Through the decades of turmoil and disaster she had lived through portions of her self had been stripped away. She had been hardened and purified in a crucible of survival. A natural hunter and eager killer she had been thrust into a strange dangerous world nearly devoid of her usual prey of hostile headhunters. She had been forced to redirect her energies into a more long term strategy than gratification and short term survival. And now all she had slaved for and labored toward had been torn away from her. So she fled into the night a fugitive with a death warrant on her head. Behind her lay her family and hopes for an amazing era of advancement and peace for her people. Ahead lay her own dark future and fragments of her bloodied past. Her feet directed her toward her past as much as her future. She would find Mac and join him if only to go on and find her original master, her mentor and guide, Methos.

The ancient survivor would be able to guide her, if he was still on the surface of this denuded and crippled planet.

She finally reached the cache and slid to a halt in the soft loam of the forest floor. She dug the heavy container out of its hiding place under the roots of a mighty evergreen and palmed the lock. It hummed and burbled to itself before flashing red and squawking at her. She closed her eyes, calming herself and catching her breath. She scrubbed her sweaty dirty hand against her thigh and used her sleeve to clean the reader. She whispered a prayer to a God she had never believed in and palmed the lock again. It whirred and burbled for a few achingly long seconds and then snapped open.

Max let out an inaudible sob of relief and dropped to her knees. Using the dim glow of the palm reader as her light source she quickly ran through the contents of the cache. There were four packs each with enough rations and equipment to keep a properly trained adult alive and equipped for three weeks at a minimum. Max reckoned she could stretch it to six depending on how much food she could forage or hunt. There were also four assault weapons with a medium case of ammo and a small dual sport motorbike. The bike was a bizarre contraption designed with an impossibly light frame and durable components. She could literally lift it with one hand. There was also a ten gallon container of fuel. She studied the bike debating the noise it would make versus the speed she could gain.

She pulled it out of the crate and readied it anyway. She loaded the other two packs onto the back and began hauling it out of the woods; the fourth pack was on her own back. The going was arduous. The bike sank into the soft loam and she had to keep hauling on the handlebars to get it back onto firm ground. Her arms, shoulders, and upper back soon burned, she sweated through her thin clothing and kept moving. Finally she reached firmer, rockier ground. She put the bike's kickstand down and crouched to rest. She could feel her muscles tingle and itch as the strained muscle fibers took the opportunity to heal and her bruises melted away.

Max shook her head and looked up at the beautiful night sky. Her entire life before the end of the world the sky had been smeared with a film of pollution, the people of the time had not realized it of course since the sky had always looked that way. Now, while she appreciated the brilliance of the diamond chip sky she felt a stir of regret and old sour grief for the world left behind. A brighter light than the rest glittered down at her, the station where the children were sorted. She often wondered what the place was like. She shook her head and located the north star. She did a quick calculation in her head visualizing her location and overlapping known roads. She smiled and stood there was a battered trail nearby that would lead her to the remnants of a highway. From there she could easily get to Mac. She shook her exhaustion away and adjusted the pack on her back. She retied the baggage on the bike, evening out the weight distribution and insuring it was fairly secure. She kick started the bike and took off at a moderate rate, not wanting to wreck the bike in the dim light.

Just after dawn she found the highway. She carefully negotiated the edge and increased her speed. Her journey had taken her miles off course from Mac, at least as the crow flies. She had maybe three hours if she could keep her current 30mph pace. But as far as she remembered no one had been out to this stretch recently so huge swaths of the road could be gone, taken out by sinkholes or floods during the previous winter. She kept to the thirty miles anyway; she could feel her exhaustion chewing at her. Her eyes were gritty and itchy; her muscles tired, her thoughts were random and disparate, frayed by shock and weariness. She blamed that for her lack of awareness.

The bandits were poorly equipped and desperate. She saw them a split second before they sprang their trap. They snapped a clothesline up across the road, it hit her squarely in the chest, ripping her off the bike and slamming her on to the dusty eroded tarmac. She felt things pop and shift in her back and rib cage. Completely breathless and stunned she managed to slip the battered and torn pack off her back and roll onto her side. One leg was broken, her clothing was shredded and the road was smeared with blood. Her bike and the other three packs were scattered across the road. Two packs had split open and the bike was severely battered, the engine was still running but the wheels spun uselessly in the air.

There were three bandits, two men and a haggard woman. They were dressed in coarse homespun cloth and armed with homemade weapons. They all looked too lean and half crazed. Max focused on the pain in her body judging what was healing and whether or not she had sustained fatal internal injuries, if so she would be severely looted after death, if not she could likely fight off the bandits. They weren't immortals and didn't seem to be Betas which meant they were lost ones. Abandoned humans, whose parents or grandparents had failed to pass the physical screenings necessary to leave the surface. Scum. Many lost ones had accepted their fate and begun to rebuild. But others had turned to thievery and brutality.

Slowly Max rolled on to her stomach and got her hands under her.

"That's enough of that." One of the men, a little taller and heavier than his companion snarled she gave him a neutral look.

"You just stay still and we'll leave you to live, maybe not even have sport of you." He said and leered. Max tensed under his crude gaze and felt a hot knot in her belly. Her first death had been at the hands of a rapist and murderer. He had abused her, taken her life and left her lifeless and exposed in a park. She resolved to kill the men.

"This is some real nice gear. Too nice for us you a alpha?" The question was rhetorical. The only people in the region with any chance of possessing such equipment were the alphas. Max ignored the question and shifted her weight on her hands. The hulking man grinned at her with broken rotting teeth. The other two were busy collecting and sorting Max's gear. The bandit stepped next to Max and leered at her again. She smiled back at him and launched herself upright.

She nailed the bandit in the face with the back of her head and snatched his wrought iron spear out of his hand as he staggered backwards wailing and clutching at his hemorrhaging face. The impact of her skull had broken his nose, cracked his jaw and split his lip. Before the other two could react Max skewered him, she forced the spear through his lower jaw and out the top of his skull. He ceased movement immediately she released the spear and glared at the other bandits.

The two looked at her, their dead comrade and the gear. Max could see them thinking it through. They wouldn't run, she knew that all ready, the loot lying around them would be enough to see them set for a year if they bargained and traded hard enough, no way were they walking away. Max leaned on her broken leg and forced it straight, it snapped and crunched sickeningly. She advanced on the last two bandits and watched as the woman's nerve broke. She darted into the tree line leaving her companion behind. Max and the last bandit scuffled briefly before she managed to break his neck. She dropped his warm corpse and turned off the motorbike. She sat on the bike's side and heaved a sigh.

Those idiots didn't have to die; if she had been alert she could have avoided them. Still she had enjoyed the brief combat. She stood and began laboriously sorting and repacking what gear was salvageable. She shouldered the least damaged pack and righted the bike. She secured the loose gear in the bike's panniers and took a deep breath. The moment of truth, she thumbed the ignition and sighed as the engine caught and roared to life. She was now more exhausted than ever, sore and sick at heart she headed off toward Mac, keeping her eyes peeled for more bandits or road hazards.

When she finally arrived at Mac's hideaway she was so weary the bike was weaving and wobbling, the engine was hardly idling. She let the vehicle coast to a stop and killed the engine. She rested for a moment before putting the kickstand down and laboriously dismounting the bike. She stood for a moment studying the silent façade. Finally she slipped the pack off her shoulders and wheeled the bike behind a mound of moldering timber and concrete that looked like it had once been a storage shed, she dragged the pack there as well and returned to the façade of the church. She didn't feel Mac or any other immortal's presence. She slipped into the church and dug around. She found Mac's home in the basement. She smiled and stretched out on his simply made bed. She was unconscious almost immediately.


	5. Horse Thieves and Hard Truths

She woke to the sound of the rain. She lay stiff and sore unmoving, her clothing was slightly damp and clung uncomfortably. She sat up slowly wincing as mistreated muscles were forced into action. She stood up and straightened her rumpled clothes. Her boots were heavy and her feet felt cold and shriveled. She pulled the boots off and wrung out her socks, she hung the socks over the edge of Mac's bed and rolled the cuffs of her pants up. Max stretched and struggled to loosen her battered muscles and tendons. Finally moving like an elderly woman she managed to get to her supplies and dig out a packet of freeze dried pasta, she used some rainwater to prepare it and choked it down.

Feeling less like a corpse she repacked her gear and dug out a pair of dry socks. She slipped them on and tugged on her soaked stiff boots. Tying the laces taught she studied Mac's hovel and thought about where she might find the Scot.

She could understand why he had moved on, she had driven him off, and this wreck of a church wasn't even safe for an Alpha anymore. Still Max felt a sense of devastation roll over her. She had been forced from her only home her one ally had turned on her and now her refuge was denied. She sighed and stood, she would ride on, there was one more place he could be, one more place she knew about.

She dragged her gear upstairs and outside. The rain continued unrelenting, lighter than the day before but steady. She peered up through the rain at the clouds above they were leaden and thick. Max frowned she judged the rain would continue until at least midday. She secured her gear tightly to the bike and checked the gas gauge. She had a days worth maybe. She hopped on and started it, she used a compass on her keychain to get her bearings and then set off at a steady pace. Her bike fishtailed in the thick mud before she entered the woodlands and the pine carpet she put one foot down for a second as the bike nearly slid out from under her, regaining her balance she throttled up and settled onto the bike.

Max rode until the rain stopped some hours later. She killed the bike and parked it under a mighty pine tree. She got off and stretched gratefully she pulled a baggy of dried fruit out of her pack and chewed it while wringing her hair and clothing out. She checked her watch and frowned. It was almost dinner time and she still had a lot of ground to cover. She finished her fruit and checked the bike. It was in decent shape but the tires were low and she had a half tank left. She clambered back on checked her bearings and took off. She rode until the bike ran out of fuel, then laboriously dug through her gear and pulled out her backup ten gallon reserve. Refilling the fuel tank she checked her watch and the remaining daylight.

She was unwilling to continue after dark and was leery about camping in the open, it would leave her vulnerable. She would not sleep well or at all and would be in worse shape than when she'd settled into camp. So she continued on, grimly determined, she began to pass battered and abandoned buildings as she came closer to what had once been a small logging town but was now mostly burned out wreckage. None of the buildings were intact enough to house her gear securely so she kept on. She had maybe another three hours of daylight and between two and four hours of travel to reach Mac's old cabin.

Max kept an ear and an ey peeled for more bandits and threats. Not once did she feel the presence of another Alpha, she was beginning to miss the familiar tingle of her kind's presence. She pushed the distracting thoughts aside and focused on her uneven path. She was hurtling through widely spaced pines the engine echoed loudly throughout the forest announcing her presence. If Mac was at his cabin and didn't want to see her or anyone else he would have plenty of notice she was coming. But, she was simply too worn and too weak to carry all of her gear and abandon the bike. She needed it for now, yes in a day or two she would be forced to leave it but hoped to be able to split her burden with Mac. So she ignored the roar of her engine and focused on staying on the bike and maintaining her bearings.

Max heard the wolves an hour later. Their cries and howls broke through the racket of her engine. She frowned and kept moving hoping to leave the pack behind. Although she was moving at a good forty miles an hour the wolves kept pace. She ignored them and prayed they would find easier prey. She felt for her sidearm but couldn't find it. She cursed and increased her speed. If she went down the pack would be on her in seconds. She continued on for another hour ignoring the snarls from either side or the continued cries as the pack sounded off to one another keeping their spacing and insuring the pack was intact.

Finally she spotted a streak of smoke in the twilight sky and let out a low sigh. She angled toward it not caring if it was Mac's cabin or a bandit camp, she needed to ditch the wolves. She throttled up hoping to give whoever was responsible for the smoke fair warning of her approach. She vaulted off a low cliff and crashed to the ground in front of a massive bonfire. Behind her four wolves leaped over the cliff and landed with teeth bared and loud angry snarls.

Max opened the throttle and nearly lost the bike, it leaped forward and she felt herself being flung backwards nearly losing her seat. She let off the throttle and the bike died, as she slid to a halt the bike was sideways. She stepped off it and let the bike fall into the mud. She shrugged her pack off and pulled her sidearm out of the outside pocket of the pack. She stood with legs wide and drew a bead on the closest wolf.

Max fired and the first wolf dropped the other three closed in around her and one leapt for her she dropped to one knee and fired as the other two moved in. One locked its jaws on her left shoulder the other went for her face and throat. Terrified that the animals would succeed in not only killing her but taking her immortal life as well she lashed out wildly clubbing at the animal trying for her face. She felt something give under the butt of the weapon and the animal fell away. The other wolf continued gnawing and tearing at her shoulder she tried to club it but the weapon fell from her hand.

She sobbed and tried to pick up the gun but her hand wouldn't work right. She struggled to get a grip on the wolf but it was hell bent on bringing her down. She dropped to her knees and then to one hand. She was so tired and the wolf was so heavy and savage she felt her strength fading. Someone loomed over her and the animal. The wolf cried out and released her. The figure had booted it off of her.

She gasped and rolled onto her back. The wolf was on its feet and sizing her up. But the figure got between her and the animal, it snarled and readied itself to spring. The other three wolves were dead or dying. The figure raised a rifle to its shoulder and sized up the wolf, the beast snarled and darted away toward the woods. The shot rang out and the animal cried out and sprinted away.

Max stared up at her savior through blood and mud smeared eyes. She felt her fear fade as her wounds healed and her pulse slowed. She was still terribly weak and tired but she was beginning to gather her composure. She slowly painfully regained her feet and stared at her savior.

He wore home made clothing fashioned from homespun and animal skins. He was much taller than her and broad through the shoulders, his hair was long and bound away from his face, his face was obscured by a beard and mustache, but the eyes, the eyes were familiar.

"Mac." She sighed relieved. He gripped her upper left arm and half dragged her to the fire. He sat her on a fallen tree and left to collect her gear. She sat shivering and gathering her thoughts and strength. After several trips Mac reappeared wheeling her bike along.

"I didn't think I would see you again." Mac said, sitting down and handing her a bowl of warm soup. She drank the soup gratefully.

"Things have changed." She said and carefully finished the soup. Mac didn't reply.

"Shame to waste those pelts, give me a hand I'll dress them out and then we can talk." He offered instead of pushing. She nodded and got up.

Together they managed to skin the wolves and bury the carcasses, the meat of carrion eating predators was never good eating not if you had an alternative. Mac hung the skins high in a tree to deal with later and they returned to the fire.

"Why did you come here?"

"They turned on me, after the damn Beta showed up everything went south. The Alphas are done Mac, we need to get off this planet." Mac laughed bitterly.

"That's going to be very hard to do." Mac grunted and added more logs to the huge fire.

"Methos will know how." Max said stubbornly. Mac laughed coldly, bitterly.

"Sure he will, Methos knows everything including how to abandon his friends."

"Mac this is serious you should have seen them, fawning over him like he was some visiting dignitary, then they turned on me and drove me out, if I had stayed they would have had a mock trial and beheaded me to make themselves feel better." She said savagely. Mac studied her.

"Fine, tell me what happened."

Max launched into a detailed description of the last three days. She outlined meeting Jack and the debacle with Malcolm and Gerard. Finally she wound down, her throat was dry and her heart ached.

"You never saw the big picture." Mac said softly. Max gave him a sharp look.

"You were so twisted around and eager for anything like a family that you didn't notice or ignored the compromises, the immortals who left the compound and were branded dangerous renegades because they didn't trust the brave new world being forged without their say so. They didn't trust the new government, they didn't like the fact that only a handful of the population were given the right to choose anything, they didn't like that every single pre-immortal was murdered at twenty-five and forced into a life they might not want. You just saw what could be, the great utopia. Guess what Max? There is no utopia there is only a society of murderers too busy congratulating themselves to see the blood on their hands or the fear in thier children's eyes as their siblings are carted off to their first deaths. You helped to create that Max, do not come to me at the ninth hour and beg for help because you were too blind, too eager, too selfish to see the truth. It is far too late."

"So that's it? You'll just let all those pre-immortals die painfully and pointlessly because you're pissed off at me? Yeah I fucked up Mac, why do you think I worked so damn hard to protect them? They turned on _me_ okay? So you can stay here and be Grizzly Adams or you can help me find Methos and take those kids out of there. This planet is a dead zone. Do you really think that once the last of the colonists are removed from earth they'll leave us here to enjoy our peaceful new lives? No way they can not take the risk that we will create our own ships and head to the stars without their help, that will let their dirty little secret out. The Commonwealth or whatever it wants to call itself is going to annihilate us. The Lost Ones, the Betas, all of us. So look at it this way, you aren't helping me, you're helping the pre-immortals, you're helping yourself, you're surviving." Mac remained silent staring into the flames, his deep brown eyes filled with fire.

"He's in Idaho." He said finally.

"You're kidding." Max said. Mac shook his head.

"Idaho, shit, that's what, three days ride?'

"If you have more fuel."

"What? But I just put ten gallons in-"

"Tank cracked open when you dumped it." She cursed colorfully.

"Its about two weeks across hard ground on foot, or ten days on horseback."

"You have horses?"

In the post apocalyptic world of their existence horses were almost as rare as fuel and working combustion engines. Mac shook his head.

"No but I know some bandits who do." Max felt an eager surge in her gut.

"Where are they?"

"It'll keep a day or two."

"No it won't Mac, that Beta has a head start on us, and those idiots will welcome him back in with no hesitation."

"He has to make it all the way back to Old New York."

"Maybe but whose to say the Betas haven't moved further west? They could be in the Midwest or even closer, we don't know. We've always been content to stay within the compound or the fields. We have no idea what lies outside our purview, there could be teeming cities of Betas for all we know." Mac shook his head.

"No, there aren't that many of them, I would have heard, you're right though he may not have to travel that far. We'll go in the morning."

"Why not now?"

"The pack those wolves came from is fifty strong. S'why the fire is so high. Now, we've scared them but we only have so many bullets and they're getting bolder every night."

"Why? Are they starving?"

"I don't know why, there's plenty of game maybe some kind of virus or something else from the Catastrophe. Come on I'll give you shelter we'll leave at dawn." Max was almost shaking she was so weary. She followed Mac to a three sided lean to; there was a pile of furs and blankets in the corner. She crawled in and pulled a few furs over herself. She was deeply asleep in short order.

Mac crouched watching her sleep for a few minutes. He stood slowly and returned to the fire. He had loved Max as a child, raised her in the ways of their kind watched her struggle with her own dark nature and felt a searing pride as she became a woman of great strength and control. But the advent of the colonization program, the revelation of the existence of Alphas and Betas the whole sorry mess had changed things for all of them. Amanda, Methos, most of the older immortals bolted at the first sign of the 'new' government. It was fascism with a nicer visage, a kinder gentler totalitarian regime, but the blood on the compounds hands was just as red as the blood on any dictator's from the twentieth or twenty-first centuries.

He watched Max sleep off her exhaustion and thought about Methos. It was only rumored that he'd gone to Idaho. Mac had had no contact with the ancient since he had bolted after the formation of the compound. That had been decades earlier. He missed the sardonic man but understood his disgust with the compound and Max's involvement in it. Both men had trained and guided Max and been stung by her seeming betrayal Mac had watched his friends vanish into the brave new world, watched them branded as renegades and condemned with no trial, he had watched as Max became consumed with supporting and protecting the compound and its denizens. Finally sick at heart and desperate for some kind of peace he had also left, although he chose to stay close enough for easy contact.

He returned to the fire and kept watch until predawn light lit up the eastern sky. He made a pot of thick oatmeal and woke Max. The two split the pot and cleaned up the camp, Mac took the time to clean the wolf pelts and pack them away. The two of them divided up Max's gear and added Mac's few implements to the stash. Finally Mac wordlessly led Max into the woods. She followed closely her right hand straying to her sidearm frequently for reassurance.

While Max would never admit it aloud her encounter and near death at the teeth of the wolves the night before had rattled her badly she could handle humans and Alphas, probably even Betas but the wolves had gotten her. They had lucked out and surrounded her with superior numbers when she was unprepared and weak. Her confidence had all ready taken a severe blow when she had been forced out of the compound after mishandling Huard. She bared her teeth and again checked the location of her weapon.

Mac moved with spooky silent ease. Max struggled to mimic him but felt like an elephant trampling through the woods. The fact that both pass underneath a sleeping sparrow without waking the little bird didn't register with her. Mac's skills had been hard won in the American west from his Indian family, Max's had been learned from Methos but Mac had had more practice of late.

Eventually Mac gestured for her to freeze and be silent. She obeyed immediately. Mac slithered forward.

In front of and below Max was the bandit's camp. Fifteen men and women lay in wait below. Many were going about their everyday domestic tasks, shaving, cooking, washing, others were on guard and a handful were tending to a dozen horses. Mac studied the animals choosing the three strongest. He slipped back into the woods and rejoined Max.

"Okay there are far too many to take head on. We'll have to distract them and steal the horses."

"Sounds good, suggestions?"

"Brush fire sounds good."

"Sure but impossible to start with all the rain lately."

"Not impossible just very very hard. Look the three strongest are being held separately maybe for sale I don't know but they're easy to spot, a big roan stallion, and two dapple mares. I'll start the fire, you get the horses. Head south from here, there's an old farm with a mostly intact barn wait for an hour there if I don't show head for Boise, last I heard Methos was living in a town near there don't recall the name but he shouldn't be hard to find."

"Bull shit Mac you know I can't leave you if those animals get you."

"They don't know I'm an Alpha."

"No, but they'll suspect, they might behead you just for giggles." He didn't reply.

"I'm going to light the fire." He said finally and slipped away.

Max scowled after him and headed toward the bandits. She watched and waited as the streak of smoke Mac started turned into a massive plume. The bandits stirred and shouted like a next of wasps hit by a garden hose. In minutes two underage children armed with hand guns and a pregnant woman were the only ones left in the camp. Max made her way down to the camp and circled around to the pen where the roan and the dapples were being held. She used a length of rope hung on the nearby fence and looped it through the horse's halters. She led them out and away from the camp. She traveled for twenty minutes before relaxing. No doubt the children and woman left behind would catch hell for the loss of the animals but she needed them more than the thieves did.

She mounted the roan bareback and trusted the mares not to bolt she kept them tied loosely and urged the stallion into a trot. She made it to the farm and guided the horses into the barn. She secured the stallion to a support post and dismounted. She crouched low in the doorway and studied the surrounding woods. If the bandits caught Mac and realized they had lost the pick of their herd the Scot was in trouble.

Max waited a full hour with no sign of the older immortal finally as the half hour mark was drawing close she spotted movement in the trees. She remained still but bit her lip as one of the mares nickered to her companion. Mac burst from the trees he was hauling the full load of gear they had dropped before stealing the horses. Even with all the weight he managed to move with impressive speed. He made it to the barn and dropped to his knees. Max pulled the packs off him and began securing them to the stallion. Satisfied they wouldn't fall off she helped Mac to his feet. He caught his breath and mounted one of the mares, Max followed suit and they set out at a fast walk.

They remained silent as the shouts of the bandits echoed through the wooded valley. Max hung back and let Mac choose their route. She held her sidearm in her lap with the safety off. Soon the shouts faded and the silent woodland closed in. Mac led them higher out of the valley and then east. Max urged her mare forward until she was next to Mac.

"What's the plan?"

"Keep going until we have to stop, if the moon is bright enough we can keep going through the night." She nodded and let her mare drop back. She stayed behind Mac as he urged his mount into a trot and forged a path. Hours later as the light began to fade he dropped back to a trot and allowed Max to catch up.

"Can you ride in this light?" She frowned. Her back and legs were on fire from being in the saddle all day she longed to get off and walk but wouldn't be able to keep pace for long on foot. She shrugged.

"If we have to."

"I think we'd better." She nodded and fell back to the rear again. They rode through the night, the bright moon guiding Mac and Max's mare dutifully following. Max slipped into a doze, her hands slackened on the reins. The mare whinnied and tossed her head freeing her reins and turned off the path. She began to graze hungrily as Max woke up.

She cursed the horse and jerked her head around. She kicked the weary animal into a trot and caught up with Mac. Mac looked back at her but didn't comment. She scowled and booted the mare into a trot. She caught up with Mac and let the weary Mare drop into a steady plod.

"Do you ever get used to being in the saddle this long?"

"Eventually." Max sighed and resigned herself to a very long painful and silent ride. Mac seemed to have lost the ability to hold a conversation or was not interested in talking with her. She shook her head and pulled her clothing closer.

Slowly the night began to fade to cobalt and gray and finally the rainbow of dawn arrived. Max smiled slightly at the warm rays. The horses were worn and thirsty. Max nudged her weary mare to parallel Mac's mount.

"Hey the horses need a break and some water." He nodded.

"We'll be crossing a creek shortly we'll take a break and let them graze for an hour." Max nodded and fell back again.

They reached the creek and crossed quietly the horses' unshod hooves clopped dully on the rocks. Max gratefully slid off the mare's broad back and struggled to stay upright while feeling returned to her legs.


	6. Dark Designs

Jezkiel gazed down at the orders displayed on his data pad. A cruel smile twisted his thin lips and revealed his strange sharp teeth. His green eyes glittered. The few crew members on the command deck carefully kept to their work and insured their eyes did not stray. Jezkiel was a formidable commander, his performance reviews were the envy of every officer on the platform. But he was a fanatic, and not to be trusted to act in the interest of mercy.

"Major Harrison, I would like to see you in my office in two hours, bring your planning staff."

"As you wish Sir." The executive officer said and saluted. Jezkiel left with his disturbing smile in place. The air on the bridge seemed to thin and the temperature climbed as the intimidating zealot left the room.

Major Harrison studied the dutiful soldiers around him. He would serve Jezkiel to the best of his ability but there would always be fear in their relationship. Jezkiel gave one the feeling that he wouldn't mind annihilating you if it was required. Harrison suppressed a shudder and called for a status report.

Harrison accepted the report and retired to his quarters, he sent a message over the comm system to alert his small planning staff to be ready for Jezkiel's meeting. He sat and reviewed the report. He did so mechanically noting off handedly that the O2 scrubbers were slightly below optimal and the shipment of dried meat slated for that day had not yet arrived. But most of his mind was on the upcoming meeting.

Few things could put a smile like that on his commander's face. Anything dealing with the Betas or Alphas – at least their removal from Commonwealth interests could do it, but there was a smug satisfaction to Jezkiel as well. With a sense of sickening dread Harrison realized what the Colonel's orders had likely consisted of, extermination instructions. The major's face paled and he swallowed hard.

* * *

The transport crew docked quickly and began unloading the pallets of meat. The stuff was barely edible but made a good protein base. It was generally used for the crew meals, the officers were allotted higher quality victuals. The medic worked quickly along with the pilot. Their captain had opted to remain in the cockpit thus avoiding any contact with Jezkiel. An unpleasant man at the best of times he was considerably more troublesome when the crew was late with a shipment. Happily this time the fault lay squarely with the Commonwealth, the weight master at Mars had taken his time loading their transport and tried to argue the crew down on the pre-agreed transport costs in spite of their legal signed contract.

The medic stretched her tired shoulders and back and shared a sympathetic look with the pilot before grabbing another floating pallet and guiding it out of the cargo bay. As they emptied the cargo bay Jezkiel finally appeared. They were not scheduled to upload any infants so she sincerely hoped the creepy officer's visit would be short.

"Captain, I trust you and your crew have an excuse to explain your tardy arrival?"

"Aye your crooked weight master for starters." The Captain growled over the loudspeaker from the cockpit.

"I require your presence in my briefing room captain. You and your crew will follow my aide as soon as your work is done." Jezkiel growled. He left a noncom behind. The man passively watched the crew finish their work. The captain was peeved but in order to obtain a license to run his transport he was required to swear into the Commonwealth's auxiliary military. This meant that at any point the commonwealth could quite legally use his ship and his person for their own purposes. The crew was another story neither had signed on to the same deal as the captain. The fact that Jezkiel had requested their presence as well was extraordinarily unusual.

* * *

Hundreds of miles away Mac and Max struggled to lead their horses through the high passes of the cascades. The animals had grown lean and ragged during the fierce journey through the rugged terrain. Mac and Max were in no better condition. The simple ten day journey had devolved into a month long slog. Familiar roads and trails were washed out, worn away, and obscured. They had been forced to find new ways through the thick woods and foothills.

Max was now dressed in hide clothing, her only remaining clothing from the compound were her sturdy work boots. The laces had broken a dozen times over but she kept them on, strips of hide wrapped around her ankles and shins, they were molded to her feet and still serviceable. They were also reminders of what she had lost and what she hoped to save. Their supplies had dwindled, all the food had been consumed most of the rest had been used up, worn out, or traded. She carried a sword on her hip and a hand gun strapped to her outside right thigh, across her back was slung a hunting rifle. Mac had a similar rifle and his own sword.

Max led the way leading her tired mare, Mac followed behind leading the weary stallion and the second mare. His eyes and ears were peeled for hostile wild life or fellow wilderness adventurers. Twice more they had been set upon by wolves, the original pack from Mac's camp or similarly aggressive animals they couldn't tell. They had also had a half dozen run ins with bandits. Max found a grudging respect for Jack Huard. If the Beta had actually traveled all the way from Old New York to the Seacouver compound he had managed a terrible feat.

She paused at the crest of the hill they were climbing and studied the layout in front of them. The pass continued upwards in lumpy hills and hitches. She sighed and absently scratched the mare's nose. The animal nickered softly and pushed against Max. The horses seemed to sympathize with the immortals. Twice the immortals had discussed cutting one of the animals loose rather than loose them in the pass but the fact was that as sickly and worn out as they were they were still invaluable for trade.

Mac drew abreast of Max and followed her gaze up. He looked over at her and she nodded. They could summit the pass before dark and have a downhill journey for the next day or so. She continued on urging the footsore mare up the rocky slopes. They had a long day's travel ahead and less food. The horses could forage a semi-decent meal among the thick mountain growth. The immortals were harder up, the few animals at that altitude were small and wary, difficult to hunt on the move and the two were forced to conserve ammunition.

As night closed in they settled into a tiny camp. They didn't bother to set a watch as the horses were as good as any alarm. They ate a few mouthfuls of stringy rabbit meat and went to bed. Neither actually slept for an hour or so.

* * *

High above the immortals Jezkiel concluded his meeting with his executive officer and planning staff. The transport and its contracted crew were well on their way to Mars their own task meticulously explained as well as the punishment for failure. Harrison reviewed his notes grimly. His worst suspicions had been confirmed. The Commonwealth had moved to destroy the Alphas and Betas. It would be insidious at first. The shipments of infants would cease the theory being that the aberrant genes responsible for their existence had been weeded out of the New Human population. In reality while the parents responsible for birthing them were being sterilized and given pure infants to raise the Alpha and Beta infants would be studied and then executed. The Commonwealth was going to annihilate every single Beta and Alpha but they would be efficient they would use viruses, advanced poisons, and where necessary hit squads. One day the Commonwealth would have use for mother Earth and it wouldn't due to have semi-human super beings clogging her up.

The operation codenamed Hammer was scheduled to begin now and culminate within the next fifty years. Jezkiel was being transferred to a research station orbiting Saturn. It was there that the infants would now be taken. There they would be raised, studied, trained, and killed. Harrison was to assume command of the platform until a replacement was sent for Jezkiel.

The transport crew had the task of gathering the infants, the scientists, the materiel and equipment as well as the construction crews necessary to build Jezkiel's new command. The zealot Colonel would oversee preparations and be responsible for the completion of the complex. It would keep him busy for at least three years. Soon mankind's dirty little secret would be well on the way to oblivion, if all went right.

As Harrison marched to his quarters he thought. He thought about his oath to the Commonwealth, about the wife and children waiting for him on Mars, he thought about his dim memories of Earth before he and his parents had been cleared for colonization, he thought about the peaceful life he was working toward, he thought about the hundreds of crates of infants he had safeguarded. As he entered his quarters he engaged the privacy locks and a sound damping field. He sat at his work desk and studied a snapshot of his family.

They were out on the red Martian plains, the transplanted greenery of earth crops and forests colored the horizon beyond the smiling group. His two sons stood on either side of his wife and his baby daughter was cradled in Marisa's arms. His wife smiled lovingly up at him. He traced the line of her jaw with one finger.

He let out a low sigh and logged into his desk. He ran several scrubbing sub routines designed to remove or confuse any observation ware. Finally he recorded a short message and embedded it inside a video. He routed the video through a hundred or so databanks and finally entered an address that no one else could possibly know. The man he was contacting should not exist and as far as the Commonwealth knew he didn't, officially no Alphas had ever left the surface of the abandoned earth.

* * *

Max and Mac reached the lowlands at long last and were rewarded with the endless desert and plains of the eastern half of the state and beyond those yet another mountain range. They exchanged weary looks. They continued on until they reached a good sized stream. They turned the horses loose on long lines and set about sorting their gear and supplies. They buried anything too broken or worn to bother carrying with them. They kept the two MP5s they had no ammunition for and the few supplies and tools they had left. They split the load which they managed to pack into two small rolls. Each weighed less than fifty pounds. Max set about making a semi-permanent camp and a few fishing traps while Mac went hunting.

She hoped fervently that one of them was successful. Her stomach felt shriveled and sour from hunger. What muscle mass she had left was stringy and tough. If Methos wasn't in Boise they were going to run out of options pretty damn quickly. She supposed they could survive well enough. They certainly had enough experience between the two of them but it would be rough and she would not choose to starve.

She finished storing their gear and fashioning a lean to. She used some weeds and reeds to weave a couple of funnel like fish traps. The idea was the fish would swim in and not swim out, they were crude but fairly effective. She carefully laid them in the stream, weighting them down with rocks. Satisfied she got back to shore stripped and dug out a bar of home made soap. She soaped up and rinsed several times and then scrubbed her hair. It had gotten longer than she liked.

Clean and red skinned she dressed and dug around in her pack for her knife. She used it and a bowl of water as a crude mirror to crop her hair short. Feeling better she sat on the bank of the stream and watched the horses graze. They nickered softly to one another happy to be eating and resting. The stallion kept a careful eye on his mares. As the sun climbed to its zenith Mac returned. He had bagged two rabbits and a deer. The animals were field dressed.

While Mac sat and rested by the fire Max hung the animals from the highest corner of the lean-to and went to check her traps. She came up empty handed and waded back to the camp. She began skinning the meat and preparing it for smoking. Mac took one of the skinned rabbit carcasses and began portioning it for a stew. He added a few handfuls of grass roots and some herbs he had gathered in the mountains. She watched him stir the ingredients while she finished preparing the meat.

The two immortals had fallen into a habit of silent cooperation. She now understood Mac's reluctance for conversation when she had found him. After awhile words became unnecessary. Mostly they were too tired to talk and they didn't need to take care of daily chores. So words and conversation fell to the wayside. Mac seemed to have accepted Max and all her sins. Or at least he chose not to pursue it.

Once the stew was ready Max sat down and accepted her share. They ate quietly the only sounds were the wind and the horses with the counterpoint of the stream. Max finished and set her bowl aside

"It's nice here." Mac nodded over his bowl.

"Have you thought about the fact that Methos might not be there?" Mac looked up at her.

"Yes." He said and wiped at his beard. Max clucked her tongue.

"I can shave that for you." She offered. He nodded.

"Maybe later."

"So what do we do if he's gone?"

"Follow him, unless you have a better idea." She frowned. The idea of chasing after Methos didn't appeal, but then getting to Boise not finding him and turning around to retrace their path back to the compound where they probably still wanted to kill her wasn't appealing either.

"I don't know. I can't go back. I guess I'd follow him too."

"No sense worrying over it now. I'm guessing we have two weeks hard ride left."

"The horses won't last. We have to rest, give them a break build up our supplies again."

"I know we need to give them at least a week." Max felt herself growing irritated by Mac's reticence.

"Will you talk to me Mac? What's going on in your head?" She groused.

"What do you want to know?" He asked mildly.

"Forget it I'm going to groom the horses." She muttered. She left the carcasses to Mac. He began setting up a smoking pit while there was still daylight.

Max called one of the mares over and began grooming her. The two had managed to steal, trade for or make enough tools to provide the horses with a proper grooming when possible. She gave each horse more than an hour of attentive and meticulous grooming. Piles and puffs of dead hair decorated the grass around the happy clean animals. She guessed a week would be long enough to let them rest and build enough fat that the rest of the journey wouldn't actually kill them but it wouldn't be easy. She stowed the grooming gear and checked the traps, she had a few trout in one nothing in the other. She snagged and gutted the trout and added them to the meat all ready smoking. Mac was rolled in his bed roll and seemed to be sleeping.

Max snorted at him and added more wood to their fire. She laid down and drifted off.

Her dreams were disjointed, violent, and short lived. She woke frequently to add wood to the fire and check the smoking meats. Mac seemed to sleep on oblivious. She returned to her bedroll shortly before dawn and fell into a deeper sleep.

They spent a week and a half on the stream bank. The horses were looking healthy and happy and the stallion was loaded with meat and gear. They set out feeling better and with full bellies.


	7. Road Weary

Marvin was a rated seven alpha foreman. He was rated to lead crews in every environment known to New Humanity, he could build terrariums on Venus, habitats on Pluto and research stations inside Jupiter's cloud storms. He found his assignment to build a research station on Saturn rather boring.

He was a savant, born with the ability to design almost any structure in almost any environment. He would argue that he could design _anything_ in_ any_ environment because he had yet to come up against anything he couldn't do. Marvin was also an asshole.

Jezkiel greeted the foreman with disdain.

"You are Marvin Foreman." Jezkiel grunted. New Humanity in a strange gesture to their pasts had adopted their trades as a professional last name, their family legal names remained but all business relationships and business contracts were concluded using business names, it made paperwork and genealogy a nightmare.

"Colonel Jezkiel." Marvin nodded coldly. The two surveyed one another with mutual contempt.

"I have been charged to design you a research facility, I have the highest clearance level ever awarded an individual outside of Commonwealth Service Members which guarantees that you may trust me with every detail of every facet of your requirements. This will insure that my final design will achieve optimal efficiency." Marvin said head high.

"Indeed you have Foreman. I will insure you receive all necessary communications. In return I expect you to exceed your reputation. What will take place in this facility will shape New Humanity for countless generations to come. You will have a place in that history, _if_ you perform to standards." Jezkiel grunted dismissively.

"Of that Colonel you have no need to feel concern over, I have never failed."

"See that you don't start Foreman." Jezkiel sneered at Marvin.

* * *

Max kicked in the door and drew her weapon. The house was deserted; it reeked of mold and dry rot. She did a careful room by room search including the attic and basement before putting away her weapon. She returned to the front of the house and waved at Mac. He stood out front with the stallion and one of the mares. They had sold the other Mare to a group of nomads. He nodded and led the horses closer to the house; he tethered them to a support post in front of the house and entered. 

Max was busy digging around in the basement trying to dig up any kind of canned or preserved goods. Mac prowled through searching for anything else of use. The house was thoroughly picked over, he came up with a few knives and forks that might possibly be melted down and used again. But they weren't silver so it was more likely they were made of cheap Chinese pot metal pre-Catastrophe. He tossed them onto the peeling Formica countertop in the kitchen and went in search of Max.

She was up to her elbows in a coal chute.

"What are you doing?" Mac asked amused. She looked over her shoulder at him. Her face was black with coal dust.

"It's a good hiding place, besides coal will be useful if we don't find Methos before winter arrives."

"Okay." He said stepping down the last two steps to the basement floor.

"What are you hiding?"

"Nothing, I'm checking to see if anyone else has hidden anything."

"Yeah okay." Mac said and chuckled. He began going through the few bits and pieces and odds and ends still stored in the basement.

"Score!" Max crowed. Mac glanced over at her.

She was pulling a cloth bag out of the coal chute straining to free it from the heavy coal. She tugged it loose at last and pulled the draw strings at its throat loose. Mac joined her and tried to peer inside.

"Too dark down here, let's go up and check the horses." Max said shouldering Mac aside and heading up. Mac shook his head ruefully and followed.

When Mac reached the front porch Max was sitting between the two horses with the bag. She loosened the strings again and upended the bag. A cascade of personal items fell out, family photos, journals, keepsakes, heirloom jewelry. Max began pawing through it all and checking the jewelry for gold and gems. Mac felt a pang of sorrow. The family in the photos looked happy and hopeful. Judging from the patina and cracking of the photos they were likely pre-catastrophe. He wondered if anyone in the family had survived and if they or their descendants had been judged fit to travel to the skies.

"Pretty good haul, most of this stuff is real, and even the fake stuff should get a good price." Max said stuffing the jewelry into her pocket. She buttoned the pocket to keep the goodies safe and began laying out their bed rolls on the porch near the horses. Neither immortal was willing to risk losing one of the valuable animals. They had been forced to kill several people to keep the horses.

"Where to tomorrow?"

"I don't know what do you think?"

"I'm thinking back to the compound Mac, I know what you're going to say but it's been a couple months. Adam has definitely flown the coop so unless you can magic him up I don't really see another choice."

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"Yeah, okay."

"No argument? Are you feeling all right?" Mac smiled slowly.

"Yes I'm fine Max, you happen for once to be right."

"For once? Ahhh gimme a _little_ credit." She said with a grin.

Mac snorted and headed out to check the outlying area. He trusted Max to guard the horses while he insured there were no nasty neighbors. He completed his circuit uneventfully.

* * *

High above on the Phase One Platform Major Harrison stood on the command deck. He was reviewing the status of the platform and trying to make a decision. The communiqué he had sent out weeks ago had been answered. Now, he was trapped again. He had to act, if he did not his contact would and the consequences . . . could be terrible. He shook his head and glanced down at his datapad. The message blinked there, mutely accusing. 

_Acknowledged, action will be taken. Do you recommend target?_

Harrison's stomach cramped and he felt his fear settle temporarily. He could not reply now at any rate. He scrubbed the message and purged it from the system, he hoped no ObWare was actively scanning. Shaking his head he slipped the data pad into its pouch on his hip.

"Comm have we received a report from Colonel Waller yet?"

"Negative Sir, we have received no communications." Harrison nodded.

Waller was Jezkiel's replacement. Harrison silently hoped his new commander would be more in tune with his underlings, less quick to repressive orders and harsh punishments. Morale on the platform had increased exponentially upon Jezkiel's departure. The Major simply hoped not to loose the new loyalty and respect of his crew with the arrival of Waller. He steeled himself to force an impasse with the Colonel if he looked to be following Jezkiel's path.

He left the command deck and performed an impromptu tour of the platform. His crew responded to his presence with efficient respect and timely performances, they knew as well as he that everything could change with Waller. It would take a few weeks for his new decrees to filter through the platform but changes there would be. Each and every member of the Commonwealth Service knew that their lots were preordained by their commanders and contracts but it didn't hurt to hope for decent officer.

Harrison often found himself wondering about the arrogance and contempt bred into the officer corps. He was a rarity while accepting the status quo of the officer corps and toeing the line he did not take personal insult at every perceived insult. It seemed to him at times that the officer corps were more concerned with sabotaging their superiors and furthering their own careers than serving the Commonwealth or anyone else, let alone focusing on leading and strengthening their commands. He hoped that would change if it didn't he feared the Service would collapse into chaos and violence.

He returned to his quarters and regarded his desk silently, finally he logged in and began going through his daily reports and correspondence.

* * *

The recipient of Harrison's highly coded and secretive message sat at his own desk and ran through his own correspondence. His changeable eyes darted across the screen registering and memorizing data. Behind him a leggy woman lay asleep on a silk clad bed. She laid face down her pale flawless back framed by maroon silk sheets. 

She mumbled in her sleep and twitched restlessly. The man's eyes darted over to her and a strange smile twisted his lips. He stood up from his desk and allowed it to run without him. He walked over to the bed and sat gently, he ran a hand over the woman's back, she sighed and opened her eyes. He leaned toward her and kissed her gently on the forehead.

"Mmmm Marcus you are too kind to me." She purred. His smile twisted.

"Not really I need you to leave now and not come back." Her face clouded. He got up and returned to his work.

She wrathfully dressed and gathered her few things. As she left she picked up an envelope and flipped him the bird. He ignored her and continued to work. The door to his habitation snapped shut snippily. He sneered to himself and glanced up at the door. He shook his head and chuckled under his breath.

* * *

Mac saddled the stallion and waited for Max. She was doing one last scavenging run through the house. He sighed and talked to the big horse. The stallion tossed its head impatiently and blew through its nose. Mac chuckled and scratched the animal's long nose. The mare was huddled against the stallion, the weather had begun to grow cold the last few days. The two immortals would have to move fast to make it over the cascades before full winter arrived. 

Max emerged from the house and mounted the mare she gave Mac an impatient look and urged her mount on. The mare nickered to the stallion and Mac mounted up. The two immortals headed west and let the horses pick their pace and route.

"Time is short." Mac said.

"Agreed, what route should we take?"

"We could head south and follow the Snake river west."

"We'd still have at least one range to cross."

"We could take a boat."

"Would have to leave the horses, plus we'd be on foot heading north."

"I don't know, we could always retrace and just slog back over the cascades."

"We'll see what we see as we go west, decide as we go?" Mac asked. Max shrugged and nodded.

The problem was that neither immortal was certain of the conditions and hazards of any route. The landscape had been radically altered by the events of the catastrophe and neither had managed to travel much in the interceding time. The renegades had fled and not contacted either immortal and with the restrictions of the compound it just had not been possible. So they traveled on, urging the horses into different gaits to rest them and liven up the ride.

* * *

Waller surveyed the Phase One Platform as his transport moved in to dock. It was an impressive structure, more so since it had been cobbled together by the first pioneers of New Humanity. He was continually amazed at the new achievements his people obtained as the bright future stretched ahead. Cancer, STDs, chronic mental illness, all were unheard of in their new world. That it had been necessary to weed out half the population to achieve that did not bother the Colonel at all, he and his family had been approved for colonization when he was barely out of diapers. His own wife and children were perfect specimens of healthy New Humans. His two twin sons were champion athletes and scholars, his daughters were also high achievers with healthy hobbies. He was proud of what they had achieved. 

He examined his data pad briefly to review his itinerary. His executive officer was one Mikael Harrison. The man had an excellent record and no tags on his file which in and of itself was unusual. He was intrigued by a man who could serve under a commander with Jezkiel's ruthless reputation and not garner notes for insubordination or disobedience in his file.

The crew was respectful and highly professional upon Colonel Waller's arrival. They rolled out the figurative red carpet for their new commander. Harrison met Waller at the loading dock.

"Welcome aboard Sir." Harrison said saluting. Waller returned the gesture and nodded succinctly. He liked what he saw but would reserve judgment until he had seen more of the platform.

After a complete tour he called Harrison into the briefing room adjacent to the command deck.

"I'll be honest Major, I like what I've seen. If this is a good representation of your day to day you have nothing to worry about. I subscribe to the 'if it ain't broke don't fix it' school of thought."

"We appreciate that sir." Harrison said neutrally.

"Have a seat Major, tell me something, if you don't mind how is it you managed to serve under that jack ass Jezkiel without having so much as a recommendation for extra time on your file?"

"Tact sir, and a fine tuned sense of self preservation."

Waller laughed heartily and Harrison relaxed minutely. Maybe, he thought, maybe this was a man he and his people could follow, maybe this was a commander worthy of the title. He decided to give Waller a chance.


	8. Enter the Ancient

Max was fiddling with something in one of her packs when Mac startled her. Her hand slipped and she dropped something. It glittered and flashed before rattling down the rocky slope they had chosen to camp on. Max looked guilty, Mac sighed.

"Doesn't matter I doubt I could have gotten it to work anyway."

"What was it?" Mac asked.

"Heh, a C.D. player." She said sheepishly. Mac laughed hysterically.

"Well its not like I planned to use batteries on it." She said miffed. Mac shook his head and kept slogging up the slope to bring the horses in. Max sighed and tossed the remnants of the C.D. player down the slope to join the rest of its carcass.

She followed Mac up and helped reign in the horses and saddle them. She handed Mac's half of their gear up to him and loaded her own before mounting.

They had decided after much trial and error to back track. They knew too little about the rest of the region and had wasted almost two weeks attempting to reach the Snake before giving up. So now they pushed the horses hard and hoped to beat the snows. Max cast one last wistful look at the shiny shrapnel of the C.D. player and kept moving.

* * *

Foreman studied the digital holographic representation of his masterpiece one last time before transmitting it to Jezkiel for final approval. He knew he did not have all the details of the massively secret project. He didn't mind really, as long as he had been given enough to design the perfect complex. However the nagging doubt that his superiors had left out some vital detail that could render his entire genius construct irrelevant chewed at him. Finally he sighed and hit transmit, let the gods decide.

* * *

Harrison accepted command of the command deck as the third watch retired. He watched the members of the third watch file out of the core and off to their quarters as the first watch arrived. Every member was freshly attired, bright eyed and alert. Satisfied he removed himself to his workroom off the command deck. He saw no need to stir the nest when all was moving so smoothly. His people were experienced, loyal and competent; they did not need him breathing down their backs to perform exceptionally.

* * *

Thousands of light years away Harrison's co-conspirator sat at his desk. His eyes were puffy and red from sleeplessness. His desk was littered with empty food cartons and stim packets. The bed behind him was rumpled but had not actually been slept in. His habitation was locked and sealed from outside interference. In the corner a fish tank burbled unexceptionally. He hunched and glared at the interface of his desk and finally leaned back and rubbed his temples.

He glared shortsightedly around his tiny habitation and levered himself upright. He walked over to a storage cupboard and pawed through empty packages until he found a package of Insta-Grub, complete with cheery packaging. He peeled it off and flicked a tab on the side. He set the package down and poured himself some water. The package vibrated softly and then let out a low tone it ceased vibrating and the top popped open revealing the now cooked contents. Fetid steam rose and colored the air. The man stooped and jammed a fork into the strange but edible contents of the Insta-Grub and downed his water. He took the sustenance back to his desk and continued working.

* * *

Jezkiel stood at his viewport and surveyed the site chosen for his new command. The rings of Saturn held a decent amount of exotic minerals and trace elements enough to justify a small mining operation. The operation would serve as a convenient cover for the complex. The complex was to be designated as a facility dedicated to the experimentation and discovery of new mining techniques and equipment. It was a thin story but anyone who cared enough to dig past it would be noticed and picked up before finding much more. The site was acceptable to the Colonel. Having confirmed its usefulness he dismissed the stunning view and focused on the information displayed on his desk.

The desks were fascinating pieces of equipment. They combined the home theater systems, personal computers, and libraries of Earth pre-catastrophe and more. The colonel seated himself and signed on. He had the usual massive amounts of routine correspondence to deal with as well as a half dozen coded messages dealing with his new primary duties. One of which was from his insufferable foreman. Marvin Foreman while highly recommended had an irritating habit of forgetting himself and his station in society. No matter what the tiny engineer managed to create he would simply never rank higher than the officer.

The new elite consisted of the traditional upper crust wealthy industrialist types but also contained the officers of the Service, as well as any government official over a certain rating. Any type of laborer even those previously considered elite such as doctors, architects, even lawyers were not included in the new highly structured and arrogant elite. Such previously powerful professionals were relegated to a strange pseudo elite middle class. They were not quite base laborers like the majority of New Humanity but would never achieve truly elite status. Thus Marvin Foreman's attitude rankled the arrogant officer more than it might otherwise.

* * *

The conspirator finally rose from his desk and left the habitation. He took the time to become presentable and secure the door to his habitation. He entered the foot traffic of the capital city of Mars and vanished into the throngs of New Humans. They were an impressive people strong, tall, fit and intelligent. The conspirator radiated a sense of contempt outward to the oblivious population. They were complacent cattle, content to let half the species waste away on the carcass of the earth, content to allow their nearest cousins to die out on the mother planet. He loathed them considered their cattle like obedience and adoration of the Commonwealth inexcusable. As he slipped through the crowd the New Humans registered his presence as a cold breeze. By the time they looked around the conspirator was gone faded into the throng.

He stopped finally at the entrance to a Service barracks. The men and women inside were falling out for a shift change. The conspirator hovered out of sight in the shadows cast across the Martian city by the setting sun. He waited unobserved for an hour. When the shift change was complete a lean young soldier left the barracks and headed for the entertainment district of the city.

The conspirator detached from his shadowed hideaway and drifted after the young man. The man's expression was frustrated and discontented. He wore the traditional garb of Mars sturdy work boots and hyper alloy pants with a down and alloy over jacket. At his hip was a stunner. He reached an outdoor café and sat down at an empty bench. He waved at a server and raised his wrist to be scanned. The tired server waved a wand over the soldier's wrist and registered his I.D. she verified his credit status and took his order. She left to retrieve his order and the young man settled in to wait.

The conspirator sat next to the soldier.

"Long day Serviceman?" The conspirator asked using the slang derogatory term for the Commonwealth's military/police force. The young man turned on the conspirator. While he couldn't have been more than twenty-five his eyes were the cold dead of a killer.

"Perhaps C-man." The insult was double edged, C for civilian but C was also the lowest rating a colonist could receive and still hope to be allowed off the earth. The conspirator's odd eyes narrowed and his lips curled.

"Bold words Serviceman." He hissed and got to his feet. The soldier had thirty pounds and twenty years on the conspirator. The soldier sneered and stood as well.

"The boldest."

"Boldest eh?" The conspirator said and a slow smile creased his grizzled face. The soldier slowly relaxed but remained alert.

"You are Marcus." The conspirator nodded minutely.

"I am. Is this a suitable location?" The soldier nodded. The two men sat and waited until the soldier's order arrived. He began to eat and Marcus began to speak.

"We have a few years but we must act quickly. Have you found any allies?"

"Possibly but they can not yet be trusted."

"How far can you push them?"

"I saved one man's life, I think I can push him a fair way."

"Do so. We need you to convert him, completely, and quickly. You both must apply to the officer's corps as soon as feasible. We need to infiltrate the command structure."

"This is treasonous."

"Yes it is. Millions depend upon us and our treason."

"You exaggerate."

"No, I do not. They plan to annihilate all humanoid life on Earth."

"What do we care about earth?" The soldier growled.

"Are you true?"

"Always." The soldier narrowed his gaze.

"Not enough." The conspirator said and with a lightning fast gesture killed the man. He left the body propped over its meal and faded into the crowd. His encyclopedic mind was all ready searching for the next best asset for the job. Time was crucial they had years to go before the enemy completed its plans but their counter strike would take at least as long to implement. He cursed to himself and headed to a transport sector. Mars was tapped out. As he walked he reached into his pocket and pulled out a communications cube and whispered into it. A small chemical fire started in his habitation. He waved his wrist at a scan kiosk and purchased passage to the moon. He had one last firm asset he could expend.

* * *

Mac pulled his coat close to his throat and tugged on the stallion's reigns urging the big animal to continue moving. They were ahead of the snow but not the rain; he cursed and wished it were snowing. At least snow didn't run down his back and soak through his hide leggings until it melted. The stallion balked and set his legs refusing to continue through the pass. Mac glared at him and grabbed his bridle, he spoke to the big beast in a reasonable tone, he discussed why continuing to move would be wise, and why not moving would be a really poor decision as well as outlining the animal's sorry bloodline and dubious ancestry before hauling on his bridle hard enough to convince him to move.

Max was ahead of the older immortal her form and the mare's obscured by the sheets of rain pummeling the pass. The sun was invisible behind leaden clouds, both immortals knew they would be forced to stop by sunset but it was almost impossible to tell when sunset would arrive. The stubborn tired horses, the miserable rain, their own frustrations combined to force time to a crawl. Max shook her head and ignored the cascade of water that rocketed off her hair. She had given up on attempting to stay dry. The mare behaved better than the stallion but was still weary enough to attempt to force a stop every few steps. Max cooed to the tired horse and leaned into her side urging her to keep slogging along. As she and the mare staggered along she thought.

She wondered if the wolves would be savage on the western side of the mountains, she wondered what had set them off in the first place and whether she and Mac would be a match for the canines now. She wondered about the compound and Gerard, wondered about Malcolm, wondered if Jack Huard had made it home. She wondered about Methos and felt a pang of homesickness for the old immortal. She missed him more than she had let on. He had rescued her from Mac's grip when she was a young immortal.

Max had been grateful for Mac's guidance and concern but the fact was that neither was a terribly good match for the other. She was too headstrong and pragmatic, too calculating and survival driven for the Scot. He was too rigid, too set in his own black and white ways. Their relationship was destined for strain. Methos seeing this had liberated the young woman and took her under his wing. Something wholly unexpected and at first suspicious, but for whatever reason Methos's motives seemed genuine, he finished Max's training and set her on her own path unique from Mac's or his own. She had been grateful for his help and advice, for his polishing of her skills.

He had vanished shortly after insuring Max was fit to survive on her own and she and Mac could co-exist without actually challenging one another. Decades later he had reappeared as if he had simply taken a stroll down to the local shops. She hadn't minded and had laughed at Mac's irritation but she had been grateful to see him again. For awhile they had entertained a romantic relationship but it had ended amicably. When the catastrophe arrived after years of warning and war the three had lost each other.

Only with the first days of the compounds formation had the group been reunited. Even then things had been fundamentally altered. Max's new world had collapsed in front of her eyes leaving her shocked and driven to create a new world, a new home, and a new family for herself, so much so that she had neglected the family she all ready had. Methos had been the first to see the ominous route the new immortal society was taking and had left early into reconstruction. Mac true to his nature had hung on longer, fought longer to change what he saw as the emerging moral rot of the compound; he had been driven away and ostracized for his troubles.

Now the journey was full circle and it was Methos who had vanished, again. She sighed and shoved a fistful of soggy hair out of her face. Her heart ached to see her friend again.

Some hours later the rain finally slackened and mercifully ceased. Max straightened and stretched grateful for the reprieve. She looked behind her and spotted Mac. He was gamely urging the big stubborn stallion on up the slope. Max tied the Mare to a dead tree trunk and carefully picked her way down to Mac. The two immortals each took one side of the weary stallion's bridle and urged the big male upward. He snorted but slowly, ploddingly obeyed.


	9. Hard Bargain

**A/N:** Here you go very Meth- er Marcus centric ;) Please Review!

Marcus studied the view out of his cabin dispassionately. This was as close to the Earth as he had been in decades. In the beginning it had been unsafe to linger too close, the Commonwealth was militantly focused on the colonization project and anyone not actively involved in moving settlers along or serving the commonwealth was a target. He could not afford to be picked up and have his genes scanned by some commonwealth brute squad and then either face execution or get shipped back Earthside. He watched the far off Earth gleam and shine like a colorful moon. He watched the deep blue oceans with eyes hardened to the pervasive red of the Martian landscape.

He turned to his small personal bag and removed a photograph. Just possessing it opened him to all kinds of uncomfortable questions. Very few people had managed to salvage photographs from the catastrophe; of those even less had kept them or passed them down through the years. The fact that the photo depicted Marcus himself and several others was even more damaging.

Marcus stood to the side of a group. He wore old fashioned denim jeans and a wool greatcoat, he was standing so his profile faced the camera. In front of him was a group of men, a young curly haired blonde, an older man with a grizzled beard and a cane, and a tall broad shouldered man with long dark hair.

Marcus sighed and slipped the photo into his vest. He didn't want to be caught with it but was unwilling to part with it. He closed the bag and zipped it shut with a vicious gesture. He stood and slung the duffel over his shoulder. He left the room and pulled a workman's cap low over his eyes. He adopted the weary shuffle common to the worn moon miners. He managed to blend into the crowd and shuffled onto the shuttle that would depart the massive transport and let essential crew down before the huge craft settled in and docked.

Marcus waved a stolen I.D. chit at the boarding access and shuffled aboard. Once the shuttle arrived moonside he would slip out amidst the crowd, at least that was his plan. He settled into his seat and strapped the shoulder rig securely. The shuttle separated and began descending soundlessly. The ride was rough and uncomfortable but short. The shuttle had been designed for use by roughneck wrench turners not diplomats or dignitaries so it was far more utilitarian than comfortable. As the shuttle with its forty-odd complement settled onto the moon's surface Marcus began to disengage his harness.

The doors opened with the soft familiar hiss of hydraulics and four armed soldiers appeared. They stood at the lip of the ramp. Slowly the workers began to shuffle off and out onto the moon. Marcus swallowed but trusted his I.D. chit, it was new and expensive enough that it should work but as with anything else there were no guarantees. He felt a cold sweat slick his spine. If he had to act here he would end up marooned on the moon, he had very few assets here, almost none with the capability to get him off the moon, if he were apprehended it would be the end of it all. He cursed his stupidity and vulnerability. If he had ever managed to trust someone else this could have been a joint operation.

He squared his shoulders and slumped into the crowd. He held his chit up obediently as the other passengers did likewise. A gloved fist gripped it briefly and then released him. Marcus nearly gasped in relief but held it together. The man behind him was less lucky. The soldier snatched him by the scruff of his uniform and hauled him off. The other three followed.

Marcus took the time to note the design of the soldier's uniforms and insignia. He swallowed hard and picked up his pace. The four men were Jackal Elite a stupid name in Marcus's opinion, the small band of indisputably elite soldiers were charged with ferreting out dissidents and dangerous criminals. They were basically shock troops of the Commonwealth command, dangerous, ruthless, and mindlessly loyal. If the Jackals got Marcus it was over with. They would likely kill him on the spot or if he were lucky they would haul him into deep containment and he would never breathe free again.

He had lost track over the years of the countless numbers of his people who had vanished that way. Snatched out of their homes, their aliases compromised or their actions suspect, each had betrayed himself or been betrayed, usually by a mortal she loved or he respected. Each lost to him as surely as if a rival had beheaded them. He felt a warm rage for the soldiers in his gut but fought it off. For now they could live and walk free, one day they would answer for their butchery.

He headed into the main complex. Ignoring the swarms of workers and officials clogging the landing pad, the cold oxygen enriched but still thin moon atmosphere battered his skin. He had grown used to the climate controlled transport ship. He shivered and pulled his sturdy vest closer. His odd eyes narrowed and studied the swirling crowd nearest him. The presence of the Jackals had set him on edge. His natural paranoia ratcheted up a level. The fact that his asset was not the most reliable did not help.

He found a visitor's hostel and secured a room. He pulled a few items from his duffel and abandoned it in the tiny room. As he walked he secured the items – mostly weapons – about his person he ran a map through his mind. He had several options for meeting his asset. It was unlikely she expected to see him at all and while their relationship had never been amicable he doubted she would be overly horrified to see him, at least, he hoped not.

Unlike Mars the Moon was a ragged poor cousin to Earth. Mars had replaced the Earth as the center of humanity. The Moon was strictly an industrial society. Originating as a pseudo penal colony it now focused on heavy mining, industry, and manufacturing.

The dark side was also reserved for military training and research. The Jackals training took place elsewhere, or at least that was the party line. It was the presence of so many dedicated Commonwealth servants that helped convince Marcus to head for greener, or in the case of Mars crimson pastures.

He was old, very old, older than any other member of his species, as far as he knew. There had at times been those whose life spans extended further into history than his own, but as far as he knew he was the last survivor. Due to the quirks of his race his survival had depended upon a healthy sense of paranoia and a willingness to behave in a ruthless manner when necessary. He had also run the gamut of morality and madness.

He checked his mental map again and decided to wander the local area. It catered to the infrequent tourists and more common business visitors. He perused the odd red light district with its men and women displayed in windows like products, its shops catering to all types of toxins and drugs, and its varied restaurants. Finally satisfied that if he were being tailed the team was too good to be spotted and he was screwed anyway he headed toward his asset's home.

Two hours later he arrived. It was nearing the sleeping hour and the local workers and homeowners were returning home. Marcus joined the throng and once again blended in. Although it was a relatively quiet neighborhood with very little foot traffic most of the locals would find it hard to point him out or provide a description to anyone following the conspirator.

Finally he reached a modest habitation near the end of the neighborhood. It was bordered by untamed moonscape on one side and a good sized garden on the other. He paused in front of it. He waited for the telltale feeling of another of his kind. After several minutes the slow tingle wafted over him, but it was extremely faint and subtle. He guessed that she was being cautious; he could not blame her really.

To be polite or at least avoid a public confrontation, he quietly waited, passive and calm for her to appear. It was entirely possible that she had a family and even children in this life of hers and he did not want to blow her cover or create a situation where she could feel comfortable refusing his orders. So he waited. The street darkened and activity ceased and still he waited. Finally three hours after feeling her presence she appeared.

She was still as tall and lithe as he remembered. Her hair was very short and black which was different. But her eyes, they were still the attractive jade that had drawn his eyes the day they met.

"Where are you?" She called. He moved slightly trusting her eye to be attracted to the movement, he was disappointed to note she was not armed. Those amazing eyes darted to him and narrowed. She approached cautiously.

"Good evening. Family sleeping?" He asked coldly. Her eyes blazed at the barb.

"Yes actually. Have you managed to create a family?" She asked airily. Both of them knew the answer. He was not a family person. He smiled thinly at her retort.

"I have a mission for you."

"No."

"No?"

"I'm done with it."

"You always say that."

"I_always_ meant it." She hissed. This was not going well.

"Forget that this is me asking you this. You know that I would not come to you of all people if I had other options." She folded her arms and ground her teeth.

"What do you want?"

"They're moving against Earth." She froze and looked into his eyes.

"How?"

"They're researching it right now, finding ways to kill us off, finding ways to finish what they started."

"Why?"

"The Earth is healing from what we did to it. The radiation levels are dropping, the viral load has halved, and in the meantime the population of the commonwealth has exploded. They're running out of space and it is cheaper and easier for them to kill us all off and claim there were no survivors on the planet than leave us there and face questions."

"They'll murder us, the Betas as well and the Lost Ones for that?"

"Do not pretend surprise with me Cassandra." He growled, the wide eyed shock in her eyes rankled him, they both knew that it was a simple question of numbers. It would cost the Commonwealth less and be easier to scrub the earth of humanoid life than it would be to terraform yet another planet or moon. Cost and ease had spelled the death warrant for the Earthlings.

She glared at him. Her hatred for him had tempered with age. The Highlander's intervention on Marcus's behalf all those centuries ago had helped but it was her own willingness to move on that had been the final solution. Still they would never be friends.

"What do you want me to do?"

"I need you to go to Earth."

"No, absolutely not."

"Cassandra, it is-"

"A one way trip Methos! I have a _family_! An infant son! I will_not_ abandon Javor and our son!"

"They will kill Macleod, they will kill Max." Her face twisted in rage and anguish.

"You are asking me to betray one family to save another." He remained silent. She was right, nothing he said would help her. She sighed and choked back a sob. He watched her consider her choices, watched her face twist and her sighs grow harsh as she accepted the inevitable. While Marcus nee Methos's morals had been bent broken and severely flexed throughout his existence hers had remained steadfast. She would go to Earth, she would do as he asked because to refuse would be to allow a part of her soul to die. She looked back at her silent dark home. An infant's cry shattered the night.

"Okay."

"You have to leave as soon as possible."

"What do you want me to do there?"

"Find our compound and warn them, then find Macleod and Max they will be your greatest allies. Last I heard Max was head of security. You have to do this. I have a packet of information for you, you need to memorize it."

"How do you expect me to get to earth?"

"You'll think of something."

"If I need to contact you?"

"Don't worry about it I'll find you, I have a great deal of work to do and almost no time to do it." He handed her a sealed packet the size of his palm. She sadly accepted it.

"I don't want to see you again." She said coldly and headed back toward her home.

"Almost no one ever does." He muttered. He faded into the shadows confident that Cassandra would follow her heart and conscience. As he walked away from her he felt a part of him harden. He hoped it was temporary, he did not know how much more of himself he could give up.


	10. Alpha Female

The transport broke atmosphere and hurtled toward the ground. It was traveling far too fast for a delivery. As the surface of the planet loomed closer, the cargo bay of the transport opened. An object rattled loose and exited the bay. The transport flared its engine and rocketed vertical struggling to break back through the atmosphere. The object was a cylinder about six feet long and twenty inches wide. As it fell it heated up and was soon leaving a trail of smoke and steam behind it.

It impacted the surface with a dull whoomp and a sizable cloud of dirt and detritus shot into the sky. As the cylinder cooled and settled chunks of dirt and plant life rattled down around it peppering the area. Hours passed as the cylinder cooled further, it ticked and hissed as the superheated exterior cooled and shrank. Finally as the sun set and dew began to settle the cylinder opened.

Cassandra emerged battered, sore, exhausted and pissed. She cursed the transport crew and pilot. They had been rougher than necessary. She glared at the cylinder – a primitive early escape capsule- and stretched. Finally she reached into the cylinder and removed a small bag of survival gear. The capsule was tiny and while she was not a tall woman it had been uncomfortable to say the least and the transport's rough flying had sent the capsule in with such velocity that the impact had killed her outright. She shouldered the bag and started walking.

She had a four day hike before reaching the compound. She was leery, while Methos had been frank with her his data was over a year old. She was impressed that he had any information that was at all current considering the strict control over earth to space communications and contacts. Still it left her holding the bag as far as first contact. She did not want to create any new enemies and would need the full support of the compound if they were to act in any meaningful way to save themselves.

Cassandra settled into a ground eating pace. Her mind drifted back to the last time she had spent any time with Methos.

* * *

She watched the colony ships load up and felt a great sense of joy. She had survived through tumultuous human history survived her own race to see this, humanity conquering the stars. As she watched a crew of Jackals moved into the crowd. They were cuffing and scanning any suspicious persons. Cassandra felt a sense of unease waft over her. She had heard terrible rumors, immortals being rushed away or disappearing, being snatched away from their familys or arrested on false charges.

She tried to fade into the crowd but felt an iron fist clamp over her elbow. She froze and turned. The faceless Jackal held her.

Their uniforms were unmistakable, black with red piping the designation and insignia on their right shoulder. This one's read 1565-Beta Sergeant. She smiled tentatively.

"Good launch day sergeant may I help you?"

"You are being detained." The almost robotic voice intoned. The protective armor of the jackals obscured their features and distorted their voices, amplifiers were used to filter and project their voices.

"But sergeant-" She was cut off by the arrival of two more jackals. They each took an arm and hauled her through the crowd. She began to feel a very real fear.

"Wait! I'm a commonwealth citizen, you can't do this, what am I being charged with?" She demanded. The Jackals remained silent. Desperate she resorted to the voice.

"You are tired and confused. Your orders were unclear. You do not need me. This is a mistake." She kept speaking until their grips slackened.

Unable to see their faces she couldn't decide how effective her ruse had been, panicking she bolted into the crowd. There was a shout and the sounds of pursuit behind her. She raced on desperate as she sliced through the still massive crowd a hand closed over her wrist and pulled her off balance.

Staggering to catch her balance she jerked her hand free and stared at her attacker. It was Methos. The sudden appearance of her lifelong enemy and one time love floored her. He grabbed her by the waist and pulled her close; he draped his coat over her and held her close like a lover.

"Be still." He ordered and she obeyed. The Jackals swooped through the crowd sniffing and hunting her. She shivered against Methos's ribs as one of the soldiers passed within a few feet. Methos ran a hand down her back and made soothing noises. She loathed him and at the same time felt a surge of gratitude. Finally the jackals moved on and left the crowd. Methos ushered her away from the launch and the crowd and toward his vehicle. She broke contact with him and folded her arms defensively.

"We have to get out of here; they're still looking for you." She ignored him.

"Cassandra, they're hunting immortals, they will not let us leave the Earth."

"What?"

"Come on we'll talk later when it's safer."

"I am not going_anywhere_ with you."

"Fine, stay here and go to prison." Methos said. Cassandra glared and watched her oldest nemesis, and oldest lover leave her.

* * *

She cleared her head and kept walking, she had a lot of ground to cover and judging by the stars the idiot transport pilot had dropped her off course. She strode on feeling a strange sense of loneliness. She had spent the majority of her life on the green planet. Leaving it had been a moment of triumph over a cruel system but now, now that she had returned she felt a sense of regret. If she had stayed could she have helped anything?

She shook her head and kept walking what ifs led to madness. She had made her decisions and she would live with them. She was eager to see Macleod but afraid of her reception. She imagined the Scot thought she was dead. Like many of the renegades she had simply vanished, into the wide new world or into an obscure death it was impossible to say. She wondered how long he had mourned her.

She thought again about her nemesis, her hated foe, her lover, her first husband, her handler. Methos, what an enigma, he had murdered her, imprisoned her, raped her, owned her, but he had also cared enough to try to protect her, to consider her his battle-wife, to turn his back and allow her to escape, to save her life more than once.

During the mass evacuation of Earth he had saved her from the Jackals. But the unreadable expression in his eyes as she spat epithets and curses at him before vanishing had lingered with her.

And now, now he had forced her to leave her baby and new husband. She wondered if Javor missed her. Their relationship was affectionate but she often got the feeling that it was one more of convenience and expectation than passion. They worked together, got along well, and after a few years it seemed natural to marry and then adopt a child to raise in their image. She missed Javor and their infant son, not yet named but she knew in her heart that neither needed her to continue their lives. This saddened her deeply.

She kept slogging until the sky grayed into dawn. Then she stopped and ate a ration bar. She used an iodine tablet to purify a pint of water and hydrated. She sat listening and thinking. She pulled a compass out of her pack and a map. She marked where she thought the capsule had made landfall and plotted her course. She clucked her tongue and sighed. She had veered off course in the dark. She had to adjust and make up more time. She downed a wake up pill and washed it down with more sterilized water. Sighing she folded up the map and gathered her gear. She took another reading and set out.

* * *

Three days later.

Cassandra studied the compound. There was a great deal of activity, but something seemed wrong. Many of the people she saw looked angry or upset, a few were even afraid. She didn't see Max or Macleod anywhere, of course having never met Max it was hard to say. But the uniformed security members were predominantly male, and armed. She frowned.

Why would a security team devoted to protecting immortal people be so heavily armed? Something had these people spooked. She wanted to cry in frustration. She had no way to make first contact with them without causing a scene which she couldn't afford. Methos might be a son of a bitch but he was right. They had very little time, years yes but they had to fight against an interstellar government hell bent on wiping them out, they needed every day.

She spent a day and a half observing. She memorized the security patrols and the daily movements of the inhabitants. She decided to simply walk up and introduce herself; at the very least she needed to find Max and Duncan. But, she was not going to approach the security personnel that was asking for trouble. So she waited and followed a group leaving the compound buildings on foot.

Cassandra shadowed them until they entered a field and clearing out the dead vegetation and readying it for winter. She selected a male, he was small and skinny. She shadowed him until the rest of the group was out of earshot then she pounced.

"Hello." She said he turned as though expecting a familiar face. At the sight of Cassandra he squawked and dropped his rake. She smiled kindly.

"I'm Cassandra I'm looking for some friends, Duncan Macleod and Max Holloway?"

"They've been banished I don't know where they are." The man snapped. He reached for his rake.

"What's going on here? Why all the guns and unhappy faces?"

"I'm not telling you I have no idea who you are-"

"I am a friend, you can safely tell me anything." Cassandra soothed using her ability.

"There was a power struggle, Max lost and escaped, things have not gone well here. People are unhappy, not all the pre-immortals want to become immortal at twenty-five, there is wide unrest."

"Who is in charge of security?"

"Gerard. He was Max's protégé, it is speculated that he helped her escape."

"What did she escape?"

"Execution." Cassandra's jaw dropped.

"Why was she to be executed?"

"Popular vote had turned against her, she was seen as a threat and charged with treason."

"You don't have to tell anyone I've been here it will not matter to anyone or effect anything." She said, he nodded sleepily she waited a moment to insure her command had held and then left the field.

She was scowling as she headed back to her bivouac. She had no idea how she was meant to find Duncan. There was someone waiting for her, an immortal, she felt him a few seconds before entering her camp. He was hunched over her fire breathing life back into it beyond him stood a patient stallion. She tensed and leaped at the strange man, she wanted to knock him off balance and pin him, he was too quick, he swiveled away from her and knocked her off balance. She caught herself and faced him again.

"Duncan!" She said startled. He relaxed and stared at her like a ghost.

"Cassandra?" He asked.

"I could have killed you." She accused. In truth she doubted she would ever be a match for the highlander.

"I thought you were dead." He said angrily. She opened her mouth to explain when the sensation of another immortal swept over them, her eyes darted around the camp and spotted the other immortal.

It was a woman, around five foot five, her weight was hard to judge but she was thin and hard, her clothing was rough hand made gear very much focusing on hide and furs. She was armed with some kind of hand gun, a sword and a hand made bow. The bow was strung and an arrow was targeting Cassandra's throat.

"Stand down Max, she's a friend." Duncan ordered. Max obeyed, putting the arrow back in to a quiver at her hip and unstringing the bow. She entered the camp and regarded Cassandra suspiciously.

"Friend?" She asked.

"I knew Duncan when he was a boy." Cassandra volunteered. Max gave her an arched eyebrow and frowned. Duncan sighed.

"Cassandra, Max, Max, Cassandra. What are you doing here Cassandra?"

"I'm sorry you thought I was dead, I got off the Earth Duncan, I made it to Mars, I had a husband there, and we had a son." Duncan's brown eyes were hard.

"How?"

"I bribed the right people and did some things I'm not proud of, I survived, just as you have."

"Why are you here now? How did you get here."

"Methos sent me. He calls himself Marcus now. We are all in terrible danger." She said and began bringing the two up to speed. As she talked Max set about making a stew of dried meat and fall herbs. She remained silent, observing and learning, recording every portion of conversation. Cassandra found it unnerving.

"So you see Duncan I had to come." The Scot nodded.

"Max can we return to the compound?"

"No, not as things stand they'll lock us all up and see us headless at the earliest opportunity." She said succinctly.

An air of hostility was beginning to permeate the area between the two women. They were both Alphas with intimate relationships with the one male in their group. Max kept her mouth shut, she recalled Methos once telling her of an immortal he knew who had an ability known as the 'voice'. She suspected Cassandra was that immortal.

"What do you recommend?" Cassandra asked caustically.

"I know some people." Max said coldly. She continued cooking the stew.

"Behave Cassandra." Duncan said. Max smirked internally. Cassandra sensed the younger woman's satisfaction.

"I'll head down tonight see if I can get Gerard to talk to me. Or maybe Malcolm." Max said. She stood up and began dishing out the stew. Cassandra accepted hungrily. Her ration bars would last for another month but they tasted foul. They ate quietly, Max finished her portion and set about cleaning her gear and weapons. She wanted to be ready for action if things went wrong that night. Cassandra watched her closely.

"You are a student of Methos'." Cassandra declared. Max froze and regarded Cassandra suspiciously.

"Yes I was his student, and Mac's and any other older immortal's who thought I could learn." She said coldly. Cassandra nodded.

"Good then maybe I can teach you as well." Teaching the voice was difficult it took a special degree of concentration and control, a level that most were simply incapable of attaining. Max narrowed her eyes speculatively and then nodded.

"Good we'll begin when you get back." Cassandra said dismissively. Max nodded again and continued her work. Once she was finished she lay down near the fire and slept. She would be up most of the night and needed to rest.

Max woke rested. She triple checked her weapons and then carefully loaded up. She had six rounds for her .357, fourteen tried and true arrows plus ten untested, her hunting knife and her sword. She checked the draw on the sword and the knife, satisfied she could access them with minimal trouble she sat and chewed a strip of deer jerky. Cassandra watched her preparations from her post as watch. Duncan slept peacefully, near the horses.

As Max finished her breakfast she stood and stretched. Cassandra's keen eyes followed her. Max nodded at the other woman and grinned.

"I'll be back soon, just in case if you hear any commotion from the compound feel free to saddle the horses." Max said recklessly and grinned again. She was feeling keyed up, her blood thick with adrenaline. Cassandra remained silent and watched Max leave the camp.

* * *

Max reached the compound in record time. She knew the complex and surrounding terrain by heart, if forced she could successfully navigate it blindfolded with her hands tied. She settled outside of Malcolm's habitation and began tossing rocks at the main window like a teenager. A baby began to cry. She felt a flush of guilt heat her cheeks. There was a low murmur of voices and Malcolm appeared, he was carrying a flashlight. He looked exhausted and ill tempered. Max smiled and moved closer. Malcolm changed direction to head back into the habitation and she bounced a pebble off the back of his head. He turned with an expression of annoyance and then realization creased his face.

"Wait an hour." He said softly and headed back in.

Max waited patiently not sure if Malcolm or a group of security agents would arrive and escort her to the execution chamber.For the first time she allowed herself to wonder at the existence of the execution chamber. It was located deep beneath the compound, an automated system that would behead a condemned immortal without passing on the resulting quickening. She shook her head and remained tensed, her hunting blade in hand ready to defend herself. Finally Malcolm appeared. He looked cold and scared. She slipped out of the shadows and tapped him on the shoulder.

"JESUS Max!" He snapped in a loud whisper. Max grinned but gestured for him to be silent and follow her. He obeyed scowling and looking around furtively. She led him to a dark open patch of greenery and settled into a crouch.

"What the _hell_ are you doing here? Are you _trying _to get caught?" Malcolm demanded.

"Shut up and listen. Things are bad Malcolm, they're after us in a big way."

"Who?"

"The Commonwealth, they've initiated a program to wipe all humanoid life on earth out. Completely annihilate us and the Betas."

"What? Do you have proof?"

"Yes I do, a woman named Cassandra, she's one of us."

"I've never heard of her."

"Because she's a renegade, she's been living on Mars."

"Bull shit Max, none of us have ever gotten off the earth."

"Yeah? What about Methos?"

"What?"

"Mac and I tried to find him, we couldn't, he's gone Malcolm. Listen to me, its obvious this place is going to hell. I'm going to bring Mac and Cassandra here I need your help to keep us out of the brig can you keep the council off of us?"

"I don't know, is Gerard still loyal?"

"His loyalties lie with the compound not me."

"Shit." Malcolm muttered and scrubbed his face.

"Lara is going to wake up any second and realize I'm not there."

"Fine I'll be back in the morning."

"Come alone, I need more time to figure this out."

"I can give you three days, no more." She grunted. He nodded wearily. She clasped his forearm and grinned at him, her old smile. He returned the smile and nodded more forcefully. Satisfied she faded away.

She returned to the camp and sat watching Cassandra sleep as Mac stood guard. They remained silent, content with one another's presence. Daylight would bring decisions, discussions, and plans but until then they would appreciate the calm before the storm.

Max added a few sticks to the fire and sat back watching as the fire consumed the new fuel. She warmed her body with the flames and her heart and soul with fond memories. Training under Methos, being discovered by Duncan and finding her family, her brief affair with Methos, learning to harness her nature and use it as a weapon rather than a burden, helping Malcolm recover from his own madness and watching as he and Lara built a family. There were also many many dark and bloody memories. She shied away from them content to dwell on the positive.

As Mac's watch ended she left the fireside and took his post in the outskirts of the camp. She restlessly prowled the perimeter. She listened as half way into her watch Cassandra and Mac woke and began breakfast. The scent of the food filled the immediate area. Max changed direction and headed to a bluff that overlooked both their camp and the compound. She sat unmoving, her rough clothing blending in perfectly.

Work parties left the compound filing out to waiting Scouts or walking to nearby fields. She watched patiently as the security teams on duty reviewed the perimeter and spread out for patrols. She noted their slack pace and disheveled appearance. Gerard was either slipping or too busy to maintain proper discipline. She watched as a patrol modified its path and angled toward the renegade immortals. Max frowned and slipped away. It was still her watch.

She did not want to kill the patrol, they were her men, she had trained and guided each and loved them like brothers and sons. She shadowed the four men until they reached a low hill. Then she stepped into view and whistled to them. They turned and faced her in shock. There was a tense moment and then the ranking member stepped forward, he flipped the safety on his weapon on and saluted her. She relaxed minutely and removed her hand from the hunting knife. The other three patrol members relaxed as well.

"Commander, we've missed you." The leader said. He had sergeant stripes on his arm.

"Sergeant Baylin." She said and nodded.

"I'm afraid you're going to need to change the course of your patrol." She said. He nodded wordlessly.

"I believe I hear something that way." He said for his men's benefit and gestured back toward the compound. They all nodded and silently about faced. Max felt a warmth in her heart for them. In this at least she had succeeded. She headed back to the camp for breakfast.

When she arrived the horses were saddled and most of the gear stowed.

"Changing camps?" She asked.

"Cassandra saw a patrol heading this way."

"I took care of it." Mac's eyes strayed to her weapons.

"Some of the men are still loyal to me." She said trying not to sound too irritated. Mac nodded satisfied.

"We should move anyway. Gerard is no fool he'll figure out that they're changing their route soon enough." Max acquiesced. Cassandra remained silent during the exchange. She was beginning to respect Max but doubted she would ever actually like the woman. She was too ruthless. They headed out aiming south of the compound. Max still planned to meet Malcolm but would have to be careful about the guard; she could not guarantee that all of the security personnel would still be loyal to her.

After settling in again Max returned to the compound. She easily defeated the security and slipped into Malcolm's habitation. Lara and their new infant were out and Malcolm was busy wrangling some kind of agricultural schedule at his desk. Max stole an apple off of the kitchen table. She crunched into it scaring the crap out of Malcolm. She grinned around the mouthful of apple at him.

"Asshole." Malcolm griped.

"So?"

"I've made inquiries." Max continued munching the apple.

"Yeah?" She asked with a full mouth.

"Gerard is behind you, he won't have you arrested but the council, well I could probably convince them eventually but Cade is against you. I don't know what he cooked up with Huard but its big and vital enough that he doesn't care about keeping the peace anymore."

"Well, shit. Hmm. Is the rest of the council willing to go against him?"

"Not without some major proof."

"You think Cassandra's word would be enough?"

"I don't think so."

"Great. I guess I'd better get my speech skills together."

"You're just going to march in and try to convince them?"

"What else can I do? Look, the Commonwealth will take years to perfect their methods but once they do its over for us, get me? They will gas us, poison us, bomb us and hunt us until they can convince themselves and the history books that we never existed. So yeah its' going to take time to get their methods down cold but once they do its over. We have to insure they don't develop the tools they need and that the population at large knows we're here. It's hard to cover up a secret once it's no longer a secret."

"Yeah well, good luck." Malcolm muttered.

"That's it? Good luck? Do you understand that they want to kill you, kill Lara, and kill your kid?"

"Yeah I get it Max, I also get that this bloody compound will kill Aura when she's twenty-five anyway." He snarled.

Max remained silent, contemplating her friends' fear and grief. She sighed and felt a swell of disgust for the council's policies.

"We can not take her with us Malcolm." He shot her an angry glare.

"Think about it, we are going to be hunted, we can't take an infant with us its too dangerous for Aura and us." Malcolm remained unconvinced.

"Goddamnit Malcolm have you ever seen an infant immortal? Or a child immortal? If she dies with us I can guarantee it will be violent, she'll turn right then and be trapped as an immortal for all eternity in an infant's body. She'll be cursed for life and someone will have to kill her. I've seen children trapped in immortal bodies, they go bad Malcolm, they're twisted and evil they have to be devious and cruel to survive and it damages them. I can not imagine an infant immortal and I don't want to. Forget about it Malcolm." She snarled losing control of her temper.

"What am I supposed to do Max? I didn't have a choice about dying as a teenager, she can, she can be an adult woman Max, live a full life, how can I deprive her of that?"

"Malcolm when she's old enough to decide, if she wants to remain mortal I will take her away from here okay? I'll save her from the compound and the Commonwealth you have my word."

Malcolm looked up at her with tears in his eyes.

"Thank you Max."

"Now man up son, we've got shit to do." She said and forced a smile.


	11. Backbones and Politics

"Max you cannot just walk into council and expect to receive a pardon and a chance to speak. They'll shoot you on sight and Cade will take your head."

"Then what should we do? Wait for ten, twenty years until the Commonwealth rains death on us?"

"Max-"

"Shut up Malcolm this is something I have to do."

"Why?!" Malcolm demanded.

"Because Malcolm, because I have to believe that our people are worth saving, I have to believe that when shown the truth they have the courage and strength to do what is necessary, if I show the council and the compound what is out there, if I tell them the truth and they still decide to lie down and take it then . . . then I don't know if its worth fighting to save them."

"You'll abandon them? Us?"

"I don't know Malcolm, honestly I don't. I loved them, each and every one of them. I loved them and gave _everything_ to protect them and give them a life I could never have and they tried to kill me for it. What would you do Malcolm?"

"The council are meeting at noon, I can't keep you here, Lara is convinced you're a dangerous traitor."

"I'll be back at half past eleven; I'll meet you in the chamber."

"Max, watch yourself." Malcolm said with a slight tremble in his voice, Max nodded shortly and left silently.

"Malcolm? Come to bed." Lara called in the dark.

* * *

Max hurried back to Duncan and Cassandra, they regarded her in silence as she took the reigns of her horse from Cassandra and led the older immortals into the woods. She knew of a naturally hidden cove with a deep cave where they could leave the horses and gear. She silently led them along while running through the coming event in her mind. 

"Max?" Cassandra asked breaking the silence.

"Yes Cassandra?" Max asked tiredly.

"What's the plan?"

"I will address the council alone tomorrow at noon. If they imprison me or . . . well give me an hour and come get me, I don't wanna die yet."

"That's stupid." Cassandra said in surprise.

"Look Cassandra I have to give those idiots a shot at being the people we once were, if they don't act then I'm not sure they're even worth saving. So just do this one thing for me, come for me at one." Max snapped and led the horses into the cave.

Cassandra looked at Duncan for support. He gave her a level blank stare and urged his horse further into the cave. Max released Cassandra's mount and began building a fire pit. As Cassandra and Duncan dismounted and began to unpack Cassandra braced Duncan.

"What is she on about? Going in there is a death sentence."

"The immortals in that compound are sheep, they sat and watched the council rot from the inside out, they turned on Methos, on me and finally on Max, anyone who thought for themselves or challenged the council overtly or otherwise. Why do you think Methos headed for the stars? He could have stayed down here and hidden, been completely invisible but he left Earth and went for the most dangerous place he could. She's right, if they won't fight for themselves then why should we fight for them?"

"That doesn't sound like you."

"It's been a bad couple of centuries." Duncan said caustically.

"Duncan I left my family and risked my life to come here, do not tell me that the man I knew and loved is gone. Why survive if we lose ourselves?"

"You don't get it Max is trying to find out if it's all ready too late."

"No Duncan these people whether they are the warriors we were forced to be or just normal people they're us, they're our people and we have to save them. We owe it to them."

"I have tried Cassandra, I barely got out of there with my life. They don't want to be saved, they want to be left alone to rot in their 'utopia'. What do we owe them? We built a world where they could be safe, have families and not ever pick up a sword unless they wanted to, and when we ask them to think for themselves they try to kill us."

"It isn't right to abandon them Duncan."

Mac ignored her and kept moving gear and setting up camp. She scowled and stepped in front of him.

"You have to go with her."

"They'll only arrest both of us."

"Then I'll go."

"Cassandra –"

"She's right another witness will be useful besides she can tell them firsthand whats happening up there." Max said standing up from the fire.

"Now stop bickering and get something cooking, we have a long day and will need rest, Duncan please take first watch, I'd like to work over my kit." Max said tiredly and crouched next to the fire she began cleaning her gear, oiling and sharpening, tightening and securing. Once satisfied she laid down while Duncan cooked. Cassandra watched the odd couple as Duncan prepared a warm meal.

Max in spite of her youth possessed an air of unquestioning command she assumed she would be obeyed, and was, even by a seasoned if disheartened Macleod. She wondered at the skill and power inherent in the smaller woman.

"Max?" Cassandra asked, Max sat up and looked over her shoulder at Cassandra.

"Yes?"

"Were you asleep?"

"Maybe."

"I want to teach you the voice, even a small understanding of it could help you tomorrow." Max sat up and threw off her hide cover. She sat cross legged facing Cassandra.

"The voice is about manipulation, similar to aikido or tai chi you use the force and desire of your target against him. For example," Cassandra started and then cleared her throat and stared at Duncan.

"_You are tired Duncan, your eyes are so heavy, your limbs like lead, you are tired Duncan Macleod, lie down._" Max watched in fascination as the Scot all but collapsed next to the fire. She smirked and cracked a grin.

"Can you wake him up too?"

"It might be quicker to just shake him, do you want to learn?" Max nodded eagerly and shook Mac awake. The Scot was irritated but left them alone. He worried what Max might do with the voice but it was too important that she succeed with the council. So he let it be and kept preparing their meal. Once the stew was bubbling away he walked the perimeter and stood watch.

"Now you have to open yourself and understand your own power and motivation before you can use the voice on another. To use their weaknesses against them you must know your own. Understand?"

"I think so."

"Good, now relax and try it on me."

"Are you serious? Come on, like you can't defend against it?"

"Of course I can I can also tell when it is working at all."

Max nodded and breathed deeply. She closed her eyes and cleared her head.

"Okay, here goes, _you will relax, you will relax and trust, you are safe among us and we are friends._"

"Good, that was surprisingly strong you must know yourself very well." A shadow clouded Max's face. She didn't reply.

"Will it be good enough for the council?"

"Maybe, don't come on too strong, keep it subtle and speak from your heart."

"Okay I'm gonna catch a couple hours and hit the sack, wake me an hour before rendezvous, we'll head out."

Max didn't eat too tired from her practice with the Voice and too nervous about the council meeting to keep any down. She woke ten minutes before she needed to and strapped on her kit. Cassandra was ready and waiting.

"Mac come with us as far as you can and then grab a hidey hole where you can watch the compound, Cassandra you and I are going to have to be very sneaky to get into the compound, can you do sneaky?" The older woman nodded.

"Okay lets go."

They set out and moved rapidly, Cassandra found herself gasping for breath when Max finally split off from Duncan. The younger woman paused and allowed Cassandra to recover.

"This is the tricky bit. Follow me very very closely, do as I do and keep alert. If there's trouble we can't handle run Mac will need your help to get me out." Cassandra nodded wondering why she was so willing to take orders from a child a bare fraction of her own age. But she did to the letter.

Max wormed under the fence surrounding the compound, did a mental count and moved like an eel across an open area covered by cameras, thanks to her gymnastics the cameras missed her. Max motioned for Cassandra to freeze. She sidled up to a cinder block building and opened an access panel she swapped a few of the wires around and turned on a circuit breaker. The cameras stopped swiveling, Max frantically gestured at Cassandra to run across. The red headed obeyed and Max undid her wiring.

"I built in a few back doors when I designed the joint." Max whispered and headed further into the complex. She carefully peered around corners and down sidewalks before appearing leading Cassandra along as well. Finally she stopped at a plain entrance to the most impressive building.

"Council chambers." Max whispered and began picking the lock. The sound of boots interrupted her work she palmed the lock pick and pulled Cassandra into a small cove of trees. A security patrol of four armed guards cruised by, the sergeant was unfamiliar to Max which meant he was probably a new promotee, loyal to Gerard and not Max. Max cursed and waited tensely, if he spotted the scratches on the lock they were in trouble. Malcolm appeared from the same direction the patrol had come from.

"Sergeant I need you and your men, there have been reports of theft in the fields I need you to cover the gate so that team can do an extra sweep." Malcolm called.

"Sir is this order authorized?"

"I have the paperwork signed by Commander Gerard himself." Malcolm said handing the man a sheaf of papers. Max stifled a laugh and shook her head. Cassandra shared Max's amusement. When a fighting force required paperwork for every order and schedule change it was a very bad sign. They waited until the patrol had been gone for ten minutes and then emerged. Max made short work of the lock and let Cassandra in. She relocked the door and took a look around.

They had entered a maintenance hall, Max asked Cassandra to wait and began hunting around, the doors at either end were locked. She peered through the small windows set high in each. The halls beyond were dark and deserted. She paused and thought about the layout. She went back and got Cassandra.

"Okay the doors are locked and most of the building is deserted we still have plenty of time before the meeting, I'm gonna unlock one of the halls and find us a hidey hole until Malcolm shows up."

"Fine." Cassandra agreed. Max swallowed hard and nodded. She was terrified if they were caught now Cade could claim they were planning to assassinate the council or something equally insane and the cattle of the compound would likely believe him. She moved quietly carefully picking the lock and locking it behind them.

"If we're caught remember you have to run, I'll do my best to keep them occupied but you have _got_ to get back to Macleod." Cassandra nodded solemnly. She noticed the fear sweat beading on Max's upper lip and forehead. She gripped the younger woman's hand.

"Remember the Voice Max, and what you stand for, these people need us whether they realize it or not. Be strong for us if not them." Max nodded and gave Cassandra a grim smile. She led the red head deeper into the council chambers until they reached the main meeting room. Max hid Cassandra behind the decorative curtains lining the walls and went in search of Malcolm.

"Max!" Malcolm snapped. Max whirled ready to fight and relaxed when he was alone.

"Thanks for that thing with the guards." Max said moving closer to Malcolm. They were in the hallway outside the main chamber.

"This is insane." Malcolm grumbled.

"Are you ready?"

"Yes, I'll introduce you like a regular speaker, I can't guarantee they won't cuff you and haul you out though."

"What about public access?"

"I've arranged for the meeting to be open to everyone, those huge front doors at the far end will be opened so the compound can gather and watch."

"Watch? What happened to participation?"

"Its too much work." Malcolm said coldly. Max ground her teeth and shook her head.

"Okay fine, we'll be there, and be ready. Thank you Malcolm."

"Max, if things go . . . wrong, then . . ."

"Cassandra and Mac will come for Aura Malcolm. Look even if Cade kills me this fight isn't over, if the compound refuses to fight then we'll find the renegades and the Betas this is the first skirmish of a war and we do not intend to loose."

"I'm sorry Max, I should have fought harder for you, I was a coward –"

"You have a family, something I have never really had, not like yours anyway, I forgive you Malcolm this will make up for it."

"No it won't but thank you." Malcolm said and gave her a brief fierce hug.

She reentered the chamber and changed Cassandra's hiding place.

"This is no good they're going to open this wall so the compound can watch the meeting it's our only chance to appeal to everyone, come on." She explained quickly. Cassandra followed wordlessly.

They hid under the main stage that individuals used to address the council at large. It was a wide impressive platform. Max felt panic threatening to overwhelm her as council members and security began to arrive. Then she heard Cade's distinctive voice.

"The only thing we have to worry about are the holdouts. Who can look at this magnificent facility and not know our greatness?" Cade said, Max strained but couldn't see through the curtain to see who Cade was speaking with.

"Believe me with the Betas behind us as well it is only a matter of time before the west coast is reclaimed and we can expand."

"You're certain Max has been neutralized?"

"Our last reports have her crossing the cascades with Macleod on some quest for the leader of the renegades."

"So she's gone?"

"Yes, I think its safe to say she is no longer an issue."

"What about her supporters?"

"Gerard is loyal to the compound not Holloway, Malcolm is afraid of us and loves his family, the security members are more interested in their duty and pleasing Gerard than causing trouble, I think it's safe to say things are progressing nicely."

Max tensed and fought the urge to lunge out and break Cade's neck. Threatening Malcolm's family was over the line. Cassandra rested a firm hand on Max's shoulder, the contact helped Max calm down. She closed her eyes and focused on being calm and remembering Cassandra's advice about the voice.

Finally Max heard Malcolm take the stage.

"I beg the Council's indulgence as I call an expert witness forward to testify regarding our security and future in the Commonwealth." The last bit created a stir. Max emerged from her hiding place with Cassandra behind her.

Max's heart was in her throat and her hands were shaking slightly from the rush of adrenaline coursing through her. She was still dressed in furs and skins and armed to the teeth, Cassandra's obviously off planet wardrobe also created a stir. The audience was full of immortals and pre-immortals. Nearly the entire compound was present, including Lara, Aura, and Gerard. Max nodded at the crowd in familiar recognition and casually took her place on the stage.

"This woman is a traitor condemned to death!" Cade screamed in rage.

"I approach under a banner of truce." Max said and slowly disarmed herself including her hidden blades. Cassandra felt a knife of fear in her belly, Max was truly opening herself up for assault.

"I am no enemy to our people. I assisted in the creation of this compound and insured its security. Cade engineered my arrest and would have me executed without a trial to further his own political agenda, but I'm not here about that. I don't care about clearing my name or saving my own life, I'm here for you, for every person standing in the audience, every immortal and pre-immortal on the planet Earth, whether renegade or compound, I'm here to ask you to listen. For the sake of your children and your own lives, cuff me and behead me here and now if you like but hear me out first." Max said firmly, her voice was steady but her heart was in her throat. She would fight like an animal if they tried to take her.

The crowd grew animated as the security personnel on the stage moved in to cuff Max, the officers paused and stepped back. Max spotted Gerard speaking into his radio, no doubt ordering them to standby. She relaxed minutely and began focusing on the crowd and the council. If someone tried to assassinate her now it would work in her favor but it would still waste time. She moved to the center of the stage.

"Listen to me I have here a woman from Mars, she is not a member of the Commonwealth, she is not a Jackal, and not a human she is an immortal. Her name is Cassandra and she is almost as old as my friend Methos." She used the name deliberately bludgeoning the compound with the memory of the ancient's banishment.

"I know, no immortal has ever left the surface of the Earth since the Commonwealth formed but she did, she did the impossible, she made it past the Jackals, she had a family and a life on Mars, and now, she has given all of that up, risked her life to come back. To return to this deserted hell hole this war blasted planet for us. For you and your friends, your lovers and spouses, your children. She comes with a message, a warning, we are at war." Max said ominously and nodded toward Cassandra.

"My name is Cassandra, I was born before records were even kept. I have seen the world rise and become an astonishing civilization, I have seen that civilization crumble and burn before my eyes. I have lived in a time where all immortals were dangerous enemies and mortals were held at arm's reach for fear of involving them in the Game, I watched the Game revealed for what it was and learned with awe and amazement that this community had been created. A near magical place where immortals could live as mortals, with no fear from head hunters, free to raise children and have families, but everything you have built here is in danger."

"War is coming. The Commonwealth wants Earth back and to do that they need to eradicate all humanoid life from its surface, the Lost Ones, the Betas and us. You see the Commonwealth tells New Humanity that the Earth is sterile, the only things here are plants and animals, there is nothing human left, everything was wiped out during the wars and the evacuation, New Humanity believes that everyone who was initially denied access to the colony ships was carted off to work colonies where they live full and happy lives. To return to the Earth they need to perpetuate that lie. The Jackals and others like them are in control of the Commonwealth forces our days are numbered."

"Lies!" Cade called.

"_This man lies to feed his own ambition and greed he uses you like toys, tosses your lives away like kindling in a fire! He dreams of an empire in his image, he will destroy us all!"_ Cassandra hissed to the crowd.

It was over kill but it worked, the crowd and even the council began to turn against Cade and in an eye blink he was gone, running through the crowd with a team of security agents after him. Max was heartened but didn't believe it would last Cade's coconspirator was still at large and the people were still more sheep than lions, only Cassandra's prod had gotten them moving.

"I ask you here, and now, are you sheep to be slaughtered or are you warriors? There was a time when even the least immortal was a dangerous force, you have to become that again, you must cast aside your petty pleasures and soft flesh, you _must_ become what you once were or we are all lost. Put down you plowshares, pick up your pulse rifles and swords because war is at your door." Max snarled. The crowd shifted nervously.

"She's right." Malcolm declared stepping forward.

"Even during the Collapse we were stronger and fiercer than we are now. When Humanity was at its weakest we were still strong if we do not act now you may as well slit your own throats and save the Jackals the trouble." Malcolm snapped.

"What about our children? What right do we have to involve them in this?" Someone shouted.

"They are all ready involved fools or would you prefer to spare them this now and simply kill them when they're twenty-five? Is _that_ more humane?" Malcolm demanded.

"You know why we initiate the change at that age!" One of the council members challenged.

"I refuse to do so; Aura can live a full natural life and die an old woman in her sleep if that is what she likes."

"You tell us we are at war and then decide to change our way of life and deprive us of soldiers?" The councilor challenged.

"Yes I do because the mandatory death is evil, it was inspired by Cade's megalomania, his desire to create a super race of fanatics dedicated to him, Aura will be a free person, allowed to decide the track of her life, if she decides to die at twenty-five then she can but I will not force her or any other child to make that decision." Malcolm said coldly. Other parents in the crowd added their agreement.

"I will train and I will fight to protect our people but part of that is protecting Aura." Malcolm finished.

The council and crowd erupted in debate. Max grinned at Cassandra. It was working, they were arguing, and bickering, they were debating and deciding, they were thinking for themselves and they were passionate. They were feeling.

"Do us a favor go find Mac so he doesn't charge in guns blazing. I'll stay here I have a feeling we have a great deal of work to do."

"Gods willing." Cassandra said, she squeezed the younger woman's hand and headed away. As she reached the exit of the chamber there was a scream. Cassandra looked back toward the stage. A security officer was straddling Max. Max was lying prone on her back, her hands at her sides a pool of blood was flowing across the stage. The security guard was hunched forward.

A shot rang out and the security officer's body bucked but he didn't move. Another shot rang out followed by a volley from several of the various officers in the chamber. The combined impacts were enough to fling his arms up and back and roll him off of Max, a massive blade protruded from her throat.

"Oh fuck." Malcolm cried and darted toward the stage. He knocked two people over on the way up and dropped to his knees next to Max. Her neck was half severed he gasped in horror and pulled the blade free; he forced the severed flesh together with his hands and began praying.

"Come on God just this once help us out." He growled, unheeded tears crawled down his face. Cassandra arrived and gasped in horror; she put a hand on Malcolm's shoulder and looked away covering her face. The guard temporarily dead was cuffed and shackled and frog marched out of the room. Gerard arrived and knelt opposite Malcolm.

"She should be healing." Gerard said and began feeling her for other injuries.

"How did he bring her down so quickly?" Cassandra asked.

"Help me flip her over." Gerard asked, Malcolm steadied her head as Gerard and Cassandra moved her onto her side. A broken blade glittered in a bloody hole in her clothing. Gerard gripped it and jerked it free. It was a slim stiletto, broken off in her heart. They laid her down and waited. Finally the pale blue light of her quickening began to crawl over the severed meat and bone slowly knitting the damaged flesh back together.

Malcolm let out a relieved sob. Gerard remained grimly focused as did Cassandra. Cassandra knew that neck wounds rarely healed correctly Macleod's enemy Kalas had suffered a shallow throat wound and lost his beautiful voice, reverting to a ground glass growl. They simply wouldn't know until she healed and woke up. Finally after what felt like an eternity but was probably less than a minute her chest rose and fell and heart began to beat again.

"Thank god for that." Malcolm sighed and picked her up. The crowd had fallen silent as soon as the scream that announced Max's attack had split the air. Now there was a murmur and a slow hiss as the crowd returned to its senses. They had watched as their messiah arrived braving the wrath of their leader and his forces and announced terrible things, and then watched as she was struck down, martyred before their eyes. If Cade had intended to end her power over the compound by killing her he had badly miscalculated. Of course if he had meant to martyr her for some obscure reason he had succeeded admirably.

They carried her to the infirmary and began cleaning her up. The medic on duty attached her to monitors and started an IV to replace the fluids she'd bled out. They waited as her rough clothing was cut away and the blood was sponged off her pale white skin. She was breathing easily and her pulse was strong. Cassandra waited tensely as the medic cleaned Max's throat. There was a wire thin scar but no other marks.

"Max?" Cassandra called. Max remained sleeping or unconscious. Malcolm and Gerard returned to the chamber to keep the peace and presumably deal with the would be assassin.

As Cassandra returned Macleod arrived expecting trouble. The chamber was alive with debate and speculation. Cassandra took the stage and shouted down the crowd.

"Max is fine! She's alive, she's in the infirmary." Cassandra said and then stepped down and allowed Malcolm to take over. Malcolm recommended breaking for a meal and starting again in a more organized manner. Duncan fought through the roiling crowd and met Cassandra.

"She was attacked –" She started to say Duncan grabbed her arm and started toward the infirmary.

"She's alive Duncan but, her neck was half severed."

"Has she woken up?"

"No." He kept going, his grip painful on her wrist but she remained quiet; the bruise would heal after all.

Max slept on oblivious. Duncan sat next to her ignoring the protests of the techs. Max's stats were stable and strong but she slept on.

"How did he get her?" He asked. Cassandra described the wounds, Mac nodded.

"Stabbed in the heart from behind and then stabbed in the throat." He sighed.

"Duncan there was nothing you could have done. If you had been here it might have been you who was attacked and you could have died. She is alive we will just have to wait and see about the rest."

"Where is Cade?"

"Fled, Gerard might know more."

"Fine that's where I'll be." The rage in his voice was frightening.

"Duncan be sensible now is not the time to charge after a vendetta." He left without replying. Cassandra sighed and took Duncan's seat next to Max. She took the younger woman's hand and began to sing an ancient song of healing, strength, and peace.

** A/N see Shattered **


	12. To Arms

The haze faded like a soft gauze being pulled away, the black went to gray, from gray to white and finally, blurry reality. Max peered around the room, the familiar and oddly comforting sight of the Compound infirmary. She moved and stretched slightly. She felt weak and tired. She sat up and got up, her papery gown flapping around her like a tent. She pulled it close and shivered. Her furs and skins were heaped on a table, they were covered in blood. Next to them was a set of coveralls and undergarments.

She dressed slowly and studied the deserted infirmary. Finally dressed but barefoot she rooted through her ruined gear until she found her boots. Meticulously lacing them on she heard the crash doors open and looked up. Macleod stood there, glowering and menacing. She smiled at him.

"Max are you okay?" Mac asked in relief after a moment.

"Sure I'm fine." She said and grinned, her voice was whole and intact. Mac grinned and wrapped her in a bear hug.

"Put me down you jerk." She squeaked. Mac set her down and scrubbed his face and scalp relieved and slightly embarrassed.

"What happened?"

"Someone tried to assassinate you, stabbed you in the heart and tried . . . tried to saw your head off."

Max massaged her throat absently.

"Nice, Cade? Should've used a sharper blade" She grumbled.

"Doubtful, it made you a martyr."

"A point, uhh how long have I been out?"

"Two days."

"That long?"

"Yeah you lost a lot of blood."

"Still, weird, how are things? What's the state of things?"

"Stable for now, Malcolm is quite a leader."

"Well he learned from the best." Max grinned.

"Come on I'll show you what he has going on." Mac led the way through the warren of the infirmary and council building and out into the sun. Max followed slowly.

There were highly organized groups all over the compound. Some were building or repairing various weapons, others were improving and strengthening the security and defenses of the compound and surrounding areas, some were focused on supplies and long term storage, there was even a team digging wells in strategic locations, on the side there were combat prep classes and rigorous training regimens. There were also a few holdouts, those who refused to believe the interloper's message the hard liners who believed Cade's lunacy.

"We weren't sure what to do about them." Mac confessed. Max ignored him for a moment, watching a group of twelve go through a combat exercise, running through an unfamiliar kata and ending it by picking up pulse rifles and leaping into an assault obstacle course.

"The training is impressive, is that your doing or Cassandra's?"

"Malcolm's. Max about the holdouts –"

"They'll wait. Tell me about the food stocks."

"The idea is to have enough stores to provide even nutrition to the entire compound, under siege for five years."

"How close to it are we?"

"Considering the size of our fields and grazing lands we should have an adequate supply by the end of the year."

"Good, and the water?"

"At first there wasn't any problem but it turns out there's a slab of granite under half the compound, we'll need to dig extra wells on the south side and rig a pump system."

"Okay looks good. Weapons?"

"We only have twenty pulse rifles, and they are not in the best condition. We have a few thousand tested arrows enough mediocre swords to arm half the compound and no gun powder for the hunting rifles."

"Could be worse." Max said Mac arched an eyebrow.

"Well we might not have you. Come on we need to find a source of steel and figure out how we can get our cargo hauling pals to send some pulse rifles our way."

"Steel?"

"Well, at least some iron and coke so we can make our own, come on now you lived through the age of iron and forging step it up the industrial revolution has returned to Earth my friend." Max said with a grin.

"Whoa you want us to mine iron and coke?"

"Do you want to carry a sword again?" She asked over her shoulder as she strode across the compound. He sighed and followed.

"Max it's a question of numbers the entire compound's population is only four thousand, that includes the refugee Lost Ones and the pre-immortal children. We need say five hundred awake and active just to keep the place running, another two hundred for security subtract everyone who isn't immortal and of age and that leaves us with less than two thousand able bodied workers bear in mind this is with the hardliners included." Mac pointed out.

"Agreed look it won't be easy but I have an idea okay? It depends on those cargo jockeys."

"Max, stop." Mac grunted. She stopped her pell mell walk and faced Mac.

"What?"

"Just, slow down okay? And tell me what the hell is going on, yes we can forge an army here but we have to deal with the hardliners and do it delicately or we'll poison them against us. The Lost Ones and pre-immortals have to be given a choice as well; if they want to leave we have to let them."

"Why? So they can spread lies about us? So they can insure that we find no allies outside these walls?"

"Because they are free people and we do not own them Max, I have seen dictators in the past and you are beginning to look an awful lot like one."

"Fine tell you what Mac get with Malcolm we need a council an actual functioning council, I don't want any of the old members retained but get together a good facsimile of the compound populace, we'll meet in the center of the compound, that big paved area I'll abide by what the group decides, I want you and Malcolm to insure it's a fair selection I don't want sycophants and profiteers." Max said and shook Mac off. She strode off toward the combat group and left the disgruntled immortal behind. He frowned but left in search of Malcolm.

* * *

"Hey Mac so glad you're here can you explain – okay going by your face I'm thinking you have something a little more important to talk about."

"Max is on the edge of becoming some kind of fascist."

"Maybe that's what we need."

"Why?"

"Because she can save us, she can lead us and teach us to survive."

"You can lead yourselves, she wants the two of us to create a council, a fair representation of the populace, no yes men and no one from the previous council."

"You're wrong about Max, she just doesn't trust anyone else to do the job right, I have a preliminary list of trustworthy political movers and shakers in my quarters." Malcolm said and led the way.

"How's Lara?" Mac asked harshly.

"She's fine." Malcolm said shortly.

"Sure, she went from considering Max a dangerous traitor to embracing her as the leader of the future in what two and a half three days and she's fine? You need to look to her Malcolm or you'll lose her."

"Mac, do me a favor and button your lip regarding my family, you've had plenty of time to screw up your own life, leave me and mine out of it." Malcolm snapped.

"Malcolm don't do this, I can help you with all of this."

"I don't think so Macleod, you're a burnout, the only reason you're involved here is because Max cares about you. You're banishment was overdue." Malcolm said venomously. Mac lashed out and knocked the younger man to the ground, he picked Malcolm up by his shirt front and dangled him midair.

"Do not make the mistake of thinking that I have no fire left Malcolm, I could kill you easily but there is no point to it, now do not be a fool, see to your wife or you _will_ lose her and your daughter with her." Mac growled and let the smaller man go. Malcolm caught himself and landed solidly he lashed out to trip the taller man and was neatly blocked.

"Such a child, Malcolm be a man, lead your people and protect your family." Mac said his voice rich with contempt. He backhanded the younger man hard enough to snap his head back and continued walking. Malcolm picked himself up and followed like a chastised child but his heart was afire with rage. He glared at the Highlander's back as they threaded the crowded compound toward Malcolm's quarters.

They arrived without incident and Malcolm entered alone. Macleod waited patiently outside. Lara was waiting with baby Aura.

* * *

"Malcolm what is going on out there? It sounds like artillery practice." Lara complained.

"They're rebuilding some of the wall and adding fortifications at the low points, plus there's the well digging-"

"Malcolm be serious, you can't really believe Max? Its absurd! What would the Commonwealth want with us? Dead or alive? This is crazy-"

"Its real Lara! Cassandra is real, everything she said is true!"

"How do you know that? What proof have they given you? The word of a stranger? Methos is long gone, Macleod was banished because he's _crazy_, so is Max, she was convicted of treason-"

"Without a trial Lara! You loved Max before Cade cornered you and filled your head with his bullshit she was like a sister to you. So what do you trust, your heart and instincts or Cade's lies?"

"Cade told me things you wouldn't understand!"

"Like what Lara? Max is some conniving enemy? Nothing you can say about her will change the fact that she came back here _knowing_ Cade wanted her dead, she came back here with a message for all of us. Look around Lara, Aura doesn't have to die when she's twenty five we aren't slaves to Cade's paranoia, people are happy, laughing talking in public even. How does _any_ of that make Max an enemy?"

"Because she controls the compound now, how many people out there would kill for her without batting an eye? Don't you think it was a tad too convenient that someone tried to execute her in front of the entire compound?"

"Not execute Lara, assassinate." Malcolm said coldly. Baby Aura began screaming and crying then.

"Exactly, which made her a _martyr_ Malcolm, how 'convenient' for the great leader. I will not be played like a puppet Malcolm. Throw your loyalty to her if you like but I will keep my own counsel!"

"My god Lara did it ever occur to you that _Cade_ engineered that? In order to make her an enemy?"

"Don't be ridiculous! That's far fetched even for you!"

"Is it? Really? How did Cade come to power? Huh? That's right masterful manipulation of our system, currying favors and intimidating those he couldn't buy. Did you ever wonder _why_ I helped him? Huh? Even though our ideals were so different?"

She looked at Malcolm with tearful angry eyes.

"Because he threatened to kill Aura and banish _you_!" Malcolm shouted.

"Kill Aura? But, but she would come back . . ."

"And be an infant forever, trapped forever until someone took pity and ended her life!" Malcolm cried through his tears.

"_That_ is the man you want to trust?! You want to give Aura to him?!" He cried. Lara burst into tears and reached for her husband. They embraced and sobbed into each other.

* * *

Macleod walked out of earshot and squatted on his haunches with his hands dangling between his knees. He waited calmly like a big cat at a waterhole. Finally an hour and a half later Malcolm emerged he was holding a sheaf of papers in one hand.

"Here's the list."

"You have any top picks?" Mac asked neutrally.

"Yeah its ordered in preference feel free to sub anyone you don't like." Mac perused the full list as they headed toward the main meeting square.

"Other than Swornski I wouldn't change any."

"What's your problem with him?"

"I caught him stealing from the food stores during one of our early lean years."

"Ah okay then Adamson?"

"Sure have runners round 'em up. We'll need to insure they actually want to serve before we start this."

"I can do better than runners, the 'com system should be up."

"Fast work." Mac observed.

Malcolm nodded and keyed a radio on his shoulder he issued a few short commands and then killed the radio. He pulled a different hand set off his belt and keyed it. He took the list back from Mac.

"Will the following personnel please report to the meeting square at earliest convenience, thank you." He said and listed out the twenty or so names on the list. Once he finished he keyed off the handset and put it back on his belt.

"Different frequency from the encrypted security radios."

"Still rapid."

"I had the groundwork in place months ago; Cade wouldn't approve the work force to finish the install."

"Limiting communications." Mac said sourly.

"Yeah well no one ever said Cade was stupid." Malcolm said and went to greet the first arrival.

* * *

Max finished a run through the combat training area complete with sparring, kata and obstacle course. She was sweaty and breathless at the end but exhilarated. She grinned at the other trainees and walked over to the training leader. He was a burly man who had served with a dozen or so mortal militaries pre-collapse. She shook his hand.

"Max Holloway, your training regimen is unique, mister?"

"Most call me Beast Miss Holloway, but m'name's David Clay."

"Well then David the pleasure is mine, hope you don't mind one more trainee?"

"Not't'all Miss Holloway-"

"Seriously David just Max."

"Does Miss make you feel old?" He said with a twinkle in his eye.

"No, Holloway isn't my real name and titles are meaningless in our world, so David show me more of your training itinerary, surely this isn't the only stage of training you have in mind?"

"No no of course not Max, I want our people to be able to crush a platoon of Jackalseach!" He said and bellowed laughter.

"That's the spirit David." She grinned and clapped the seven foot master of arms on the shoulder


	13. Shock and Awe

_Fifteen years later_

Flames licked at the gates to the compound. The mighty wood and iron edifice crackled and sparked while the iron warped and softened sagging under its weight. Beyond the flaming gates the buildings also erupted in muffled explosions and fire. Fog wreathed the air muffling the blasts. Smoke added to the fog making the night a picture of a blackened hell. The dim twisted forms of what had once been human beings littered the grounds. Far off on the landing field ships were landing and disgorging heavily armed Jackals.

The squads broke off and began following a prearranged search and destroy pattern. Any survivors in the compound would be exterminated. Amidst the fog and smoke a handful of commandos shifted position and readied for the assault.

The Jackals confident in their ability to launch a surprise attack had bombarded the compound from space and then launched their shuttles confident and self assured. Their heavy boots thumped and cracked on the stone and frozen mud of the landing field.

As they entered the flaming walls of the compound they began to fall. Like dominoes or gas victims silent and near invisible human shapes darted through the smoking night raining silent instant death on the Jackals. Their masked emotionless faces twisted and swiveled attempting to see their attackers a few random shots rang out, the pulse rifle's lances brightening the all ready bloody luminous air.

The immortals were fast and effective. Before the drop ships had time to power down into standby every Jackal was dead dropped by poisoned projectiles carefully aimed at the soft points in their armor, the joint between the helmet and throat, the groin and armpits, the traditional points of assault upon armored enemies since the creation of armor.

As more and more life signs faded from scopes and more radios went dead panic began to beset the crews of the drop ships. There were nervous exchanges over their interlinked coms and panicked engine starts and fails.

Then the drop ships fell silent as well, one by one, the ships on the periphery failed to respond and the silence spiraled inward to the center of the parked ships. The final crew buttoned up and armed themselves as well as they could. The pilot and co-pilot were each armed with the standard combat knives and pulse pistols.

They waited in tense silence facing the rear door. Finally there was a soft hissing scrape across the forward portion of the ship. It ceased and fell silent. The only sound in the cramped ship was the crew's harsh breath.

"This is dropship Alpha Two, requesting immediate assistance repeat-" The pilot was cut off by a mighty boom from the rear. Someone was trying to batter the door in. The co-pilot braced her back against the partition for the cockpit and faced the rear with her weapon primed.

"Contact with entire assault group has failed, repeat we have lost contact with all Jackal units and all other ships, we are alone and under assault, repeat we are ALONE!" He shouted the last keyed off and took a stance next to his copilot.

Another crash shook the small craft.

"Why don't they just use a plasma torch?" He asked fearfully.

"They don't have one." She said bitterly.

"What? They can take down a couple hundred Jackals and twenty drop ships with armed crews but they don't' have a plasma torch?"

"Yes." She said. He wiped at his sweaty face.

"Okay I say we drop the door and kill everything that moves out there."

"We'll be overrun."

"Well, the way I see it we can wait them out and die or we can blast them to hell and die."

The copilot slammed her palm against the hatch release button and took aim. The clam shell doors opened with the abrupt force of measured hydraulics and the horde poured in. They were dressed in black; the only color the whites of their maddened eyes. The crew let out screams of fear and rage and opened fire. Bodies fell like rain but still they came, the door was choked with corpses and still more black figures swarmed and then to the horror of the crew the dead rose.

Their twisted singed wounds and cratered injuries filled and swelled and healed and they got to their feet. The pilot shrieked as a hand wrapped around his throat. The radio behind him crackled to life.

"This is High Commander Jezkiel report!" A pulse rifle blast destroyed the radio. The only sound was the cooling of the metal twisted by pulse blasts and the crackle of the flames still consuming the compound. The black warriors faded into the night.

As dawn broke it revealed the still smoking and smoldering remnants of the compound and its walls. The compound was deserted the corpses of the night before were gone. The only corpses left were the Jackals. They had been stripped of all useful equipment and left to rot. The commander of the group had been strung up on the buckled gate.

His helmet had been forced off revealing his twisted face, the engineered visage of a society condoned murderer. His teeth were elongated and savage, his eyes beady and catlike. His humanity was as much in doubt as that of the people he hunted. Nailed to his chest was a note.

_We are warned and we are armed_

It was unsigned.


	14. Dissension and Command

High Commander Jezkiel's eyes gleamed insanely as he reviewed the report on his screen. His second in command and chief underling kept a safe distance and remained utterly still and silent as his liege re-read the report for the hundredth time.

"How could communications be lost? _HOW?_ We have forty satellites in geostationary orbit over every major population center, we know everything about these animals, their habits, abilities, diets everything!" He finished venomously.

"I want to know precisely what happened down there Kraekn." Jezkiel snarled turning on his aide. Karaekn nodded smartly and about faced he left silently.

Jezkiel stewed and glared around the room. He stood gracefully and began to pace. It was an image not unlike a caged predatory cat. He unconsciously flexed his right hand rhythmically. His robotic mind was cataloging what information he had at hand and running through possible explanations. He paced for an hour and then went to his desk. He keyed Kraekn's comm.

"I wish to inspect the battle site personally, see to it." Jezkiel snapped. Kraekn sighed at his comm and looked up at the combat team he was facing.

The team was well blooded in campaigns against the Betas in the eastern half of old America. They were scarred and iron hard. The leader an officer known by only his monetary designator as all his team was, was a massive man. Nearly seven feet tall and whip thin. He towered over Kraekn.

"You have your orders, High Commander Jezkiel will accompany you, I would like your plan of conquest within the hour." Kraekn returned the officer's salute and returned to his master's side.

"Prime Combat team Alpha One has been briefed Sir; they are ready to accompany you to the surface within twenty-four hours."

"Excellent Kraekn. You are dismissed." Kraekn was a master at hiding his true feelings and reactions. It was a trait which had preserved his life in service to his volatile master for six years. Previously Jezkiel had mentally broken or physically annihilated every aide assigned to him from the candidate pool. Service to Jezkiel was akin to a death sentence or a blessing from on high. Jezkiel was the kind of officer with real power, political and otherwise, he could make a career with a flick of his pale hand.

Kraekn was thirty young for his post but old for his rank. He itched to be elevated as was his due for serving his deeply loyal but disturbed master. He envisioned Jezkiel's role in the Commonwealth as that of a scalpel, extraordinarily dangerous in the wrong hands but necessary to remove a dangerous infection. Still the last man to have his post had been sent on a literal suicide mission after disappointing Jezkiel.

Kraekn returned to his quarters and sat at his desk. He settled into deep thought for a moment and then turned to his desk. He began working on reports.

* * *

Max surveyed her blooded army and smiled coldly. No longer were they a motley muddle of warriors and strangers, killers and battle lords, now they were a unit, a creature of one mind and one purpose, devoted and pledged to the salvation of their people and the preservation of immortal life, more than that they were fierce, they were deadly, they were very, very effective. Twenty years ago if anyone had said that Max would lead a force more deadly than the dreaded Jackals she would have laughed in their faces. Now it was a fact.

Her soldiers had moved like ghosts and annihilated the crack troops of the Commonwealth. She felt a dark pride in her chest, like a slow fire. She surveyed the ranks and ranks of soldiers, the elite commandos were in formation at the front of the ranks. They had been the instruments of fear that buckled the commonwealth's knees. She spared a wolfish grin for them.

Finally her inspection complete she mounted the dais and faced her commanders. Mac, Cassandra, Bear, and a new man, well new to the compound as a permanent resident, a Beta, Jack Huard, faced her. She nodded solemnly to them and turned her gaze on the junior officers and her army.

"My people, our army. Listen well. We have had a major success, no one can argue against the facts. We killed every single Commonwealth interloper, each and every would be murderer." The grotto erupted in cheers.

The army was convened in a giant natural grotto, several hundred feet underground. It had the drawback of being perpetually damp and echoing but it could fit all of them and their equipment, the tertiary tunnels and caves housed the civilian immortals and Betas. The Betas, after suffering a similar attack from the skies had fled to the west and joined the immortals. The initial feeling out period had been rough and there had been blood spilled.

Max in an effort to join the two peoples had extended a peace offering. Jack Huard, leader of the surviving Betas and a grudging admirer of Max would become one of the four commanders of the combined army. Additionally all four legions would have equal numbers of immortal and vampire combatants. It had worked, barely. The immortals and vampires were far from at peace but the threat of the Commonwealth was enough to force them together.

"My people we are a noble people, our eastern brothers and sisters were not so fortunate as us, they were driven like animals, slaughtered and forced from their homes. Today, today we AVENGED THEM!" She snarled allowing her own darkest rage and sorrow for the eastern dead to fill her voice. Again the grotto trembled with noise.

She raised her hands for silence.

"Remember that our work is far from done. This is the first shot in a war that may cost us everything; remember this always, _to fail is to die_. If we lose this war then every person here dies, every person you know and love, _dies_. Remember this as we take this fight to the skies; remember this as the pulse bolts rain around you, as the screams of your mutilated comrades' color the night, as you take the life of your enemy. _To fail is to die_."

A solemn expectant silence filled the grotto. Max nodded to Mac and stepped aside. Mac mounted the dais.

"We cannot stay here. They will know within hours how we accomplished their defeat at our compound. We knew this and have prepared, our civilians are all ready on the move we will join them. Where we are going is classified, you will be briefed upon arrival." Mac looked tired and oddly old.

Mac brought the army to attention and turned them over to their legions and individual units. The five commanders watched as the hundreds of men and women, immortal and vampire alike filed out in orderly ranks.

"What now Max?" Jack asked. Max gave him a neutral look.

"We follow the plan." She said solemnly. The command structure was intact, theoretically the council led the civilian side, Max led the army. In practice Max led both.

"Obviously." Bear sneered. Bear did not like Jack, he did not like the fact that Max was driven out after Jack's arrival, that immortals had died true deaths after the Betas arrived, he did not like that Jack advocated the Betas adopt the title 'vampire' with all its connotations.

Bear was much, much larger than Jack. Jack smirked at Bear and turned to Max.

"I would simply like to point out that my earlier objections still stand."

"Max is our commander Jack, surely you understand that. Respect her, the decision has been made and it is far too late to go back and change things." Cassandra admonished. Max was slightly irritated that Cassandra felt she had to verbalize the issue, thus giving the problem more weight and credence in Max's eyes than it truly warranted. Jack was being a pain in the ass because that was his way. The fact was Max knew her plan could lead both races to ruin or it could be their only path of salvation. The weight of it pulled on her.

"Commanders, you are dismissed, see to your people." Max growled cutting off any more bitching from Jack.

Max watched them leave. She knew that Jack was a great leader and quite a fighter. She had gotten into the ring with him before extending the command offer. She had beaten him, soundly but not easily. She had felt it was necessary to physically dominate the vampire, to insure that he knew her rank was not a mere formality; she truly was a leader and a killer.

What she feared was that she was not the planner they needed. She consulted every expert in the compound, immortals and vampires alike, anyone with experience in war, who had studied or lived through violent or turbulent periods of history, anyone with any knowledge or expertise that could assist their struggle. Still in the end the decisions were hers to make. The fact that Mac, newly awoken to his life but still as morally bound as ever stood by her helped her to feel her decisions were sound. Still she missed Methos. Kronos was insane but he was not wrong about Methos's skills.

She scrubbed her face and left the dais. The grotto was silent now and empty. Or nearly. She leaedt a foot when Malcolm's hand landed on her shoulder. She cursed her lack of awareness.

"God damnit Malcolm you shouldn't do that!" She snapped.

"You need to get some sleep. The last group won't leave for eight hours; I can secure you a spot." Malcolm said concerned. She nodded and rubbed the back of her neck.

"Max I know what you're doing and how important it is but if you fall out, if we loose you because you're too tired to dodge an assassin, or too bleary eyed to call in –"

"I know I'm going, send a med tech to the sleeping area okay? I'll get a solid eight and head out with the last group." Max was too tired to argue.

As she wound through the well lit tunnels and corridors of the cave system a low rumble echoed through the system. She put a hand on the wall to steady herself. The rumbling continued low and rhythmic. Slow dawning horror filled Max's face. She took off at a sprint. Ricocheting off rock walls as the shaking continued.

Finally Max broke into an open room and slapped a red alarm button on the wall. A wailing klaxon resounded, announcing an attack. She struggled to hurry through the still shaking tunnels as chunks of loosened dirt and rock began to fall. She could hear cries and shouts from distant caverns and chambers ahead of and behind her. One purpose burned in her chest. She had to arm up and she had to get to the surface.

This was not an earthquake. It was not a volcanic eruption or a flood from the lower tunnels, it was a bombardment. Whether from space or planetary craft or even traditional artillery was hard to say.

Finally she reached an auxiliary armory and armed up. She had to make do with a limited suit of combat armor, her small lean stature made most of the generalized gear too large or bulky. She took a vest and leg armor, a bandolier of grenades, two hand held pulse pistols, a pulse rifle and three extra cartridges. She also shouldered two high explosive packs. Securing her gear she reentered the tunnels and prayed to a god she claimed not to believe in that she would reach the surface.

Twenty grueling minutes later she did. She keyed her omnipresent radio on.

"All units this is Commander Holloway status?' she was greeted with snow and static. She cursed and shouldered her rifle. She rushed toward the sound of explosions. As she crested a ridge a scene of devastation greeted her.

As far as she could see the ground was shattered and tumbled, raw dirt and rock greeted the cold pale sky. It was midday ordinarily the immortals and vampires would not venture to the surface but thanks to the cave system and the overgrown forests they had been able to move without being observed. They thought.

Max let out a scream of rage and grief and rushed across the churned ground. She had no way of knowing where the attack was coming from but her anger drove her forward. She crossed the mile or so of shattered earth and spotted their tormentors. It was two tank like vehicles, similar to the compounds Scout vehicles but heavily armed and armored. She ducked into a shallow divot created by an explosion and studied her prey.

Her radio crackled to life.

"Holloway this is legion one command, orders?"

"I have two enemy vehicles in site, they're some kind of tanks, what's your status legion one?"

"Half strength."

"Get our people out and away I'll take care of the tanks-"

"Sir, with all due respect-" Jack who commanded the first legion argued.

"Huard we haven't the time."

"You'll be killed!"

"You have your orders." She growled. She turned her radio low and slung one of her explosive packs onto the ground. She armed it and set the timer to thirty seconds. Assuming she got close enough to secure it to one of the vehicles she didn't think she would have much time to count it down.

She got to her feet and waited until it appeared that the tanks were situated so that her approach would be disguised. She knew logically that the vehicles were likely tricked out with every advancement the Commonwealth could come up with including new sensors. Still she had to try.

She charged using what ever she could as cover and miraculously arrived within arms length of one of the tanks, she slung the pack at it praying that there was enough time for her to seek cover. She turned on one heel and sprinted away as she slid into another crater and covered her face the pack exploded. She waited until the rain of mud and dirt ceased and peered out. The tank was intact, the skin was scorched but the structure was untouched. She felt her heart sink and fear spurt into her chest. She scrambled out of the hole snatching at the second pack as she emerged she armed it for the default ten seconds and slung it toward her enemy she ran to another crater and freed her bandolier of grenades.

If nothing else, she thought, I'm buying them time.

She popped up as the second explosion forced gouts of dirt airborne. Using the shredded dirt as cover she armed two grenades and lobbed them at the tank. Its partner had now come around and brought its insanely huge pulse cannon to bear on Max. She left her crater with a huge jump and pulled the master pin on her bandolier; this armed each and every grenade and gave them a five second fuse. She slung the bandolier at the aggressing tank and pulled her pulse rifle around; she popped off the safety and began firing. She was also wailing wildly, her voice rising in an ululating shriek of rage and desperate grief.

Somehow everything went dark.


	15. Guess Who

Her hand moved first. An unconscious spastic twitch, a tiny avalanche of dirt trickled away from her buried form. Slowly the twitch grew stronger her hand moved forward dug into the dirt, claw like, desperate, determined. She tensed and pulled herself forward, then twisted and rolled, her chest and face were toward the sky, her legs tangled and twisted were still pinned under dirt. Slowly her eyes fluttered and opened, she coughed violently. Dirt and saliva mixed to coat her lips and chin in a thick gelatinous muck. She wiped at it with a dirt caked sleeve succeeding in only smearing the muck. She sat for a moment breathing.

She did not remember what had made everything dark. With a sharp jerk she recalled the two tanks she whipped around twisting her legs further seeking a sight of the behemoths. Both sat smoking and mortally damaged, evidently abandoned or crewed by the dead. She winced and gasped as agony in her legs registered. Slowly she pulled them free of the mound of dirt.

They were savagely broken and liberally peppered with bits of dead tank. She sternly forced the shattered bones into place and began picking chunks of tank out of her legs racing to beat her quickening. She frowned as the rapidly healing flesh enclosed several large pieces of metal. She shrugged and slowly stood.

Her radio burbled near silently to itself. She frowned and cranked the volume up. The reception was broken and full of static. She keyed in.

"This is Holloway, all units report." She said between wracking coughs. Silence greeted her. She sighed and clipped the radio onto her shoulder, closer to her concussion addled ears. Slowly painfully Max Holloway commander of the Earth forces began trudging toward what she hoped was her people.

* * *

Jezkiel surveyed the wreckage of the compound. The twisted metal and cracked stones of the gates and buildings, the warped and rotting Jackals sprawled in death like macabre snowflakes.

"I want their gear and armor salvaged." Jezkiel ordered Kraekn.

"Yes sir, sir there may be a concern about the smell, the bodies have been sitting-"

"Let their comrades ride to battle with the stench of their failed brothers and the price for failure thick in their nostrils." Jezkiel snarled. Kraekn fell silent.

Jezkiel took his time surveying the carnage and the complete and indisputable success of the Alphas. He felt a small sense of satisfaction knowing that the equally foul Betas had not been at all successful in defending themselves. Instead the handful of survivors had risked everything attempting to reach the Alphas. He pressed his precise pink tongue to his tiny sharp teeth and fought back the urge to snarl aloud. The Alphas, oh he had dismissed them too quickly.

Kraekn monitored his radio closely. Hundreds of miles away a tank squad was maneuvering on a recon exercise. There had been scattered intel reports of anomalous infrared readings in a particular area. The anomalies were scattered and imprecise but there was a chance they were Alphas.

Kraekn privately hoped for the crew of tanks benefit that they found nothing or if they did find Alphas, annihilated them efficiently and precisely. Anything less could have dire consequences.

As Kraekn followed his master the squad reported contact. Kraekn and Jezkiel froze. The High Commander snatched the radio from his underling and listened intently.

"Contact confirmed engaging target." The voice of the squad leader crackled. Jezkiel wished briefly that he had his hollow map and other paraphernalia with him. Nonetheless he could easily follow and anticipate the engagement. He listened as the tanks made massive headway and chewed up the group of Alphas it had encountered. As they began a confirmation sweep another hostile appeared a lone woman with a satchel charge. Jezkiel listened, his rage and frustration increasing as the woman's first attack failed and her suicidal second and third actually succeeded he listened to the squad die and communications cease. He snarled inaudibly and handed the radio back to Kraekn.

Without having to be told Kraekn called for pickup for the High Commander and requested back up to the site of the battle if it could be called a battle.

"Be aware if the hostile was an Alpha she may still be alive, approach with extreme caution hostile is absolutely armed and dangerous." Jezkiel snatched the radio back.

"A years rations and six months leave to the unit that brings that Alpha in alive." Jezkiel snarled and keyed off. The air transport arrived and retrieved the two officers.

Max staggered on, the radio burbling insanely. She prayed some portion of the army had survived and reached safety. Her legs ached, healed though they were the memory of the damage plagued her taxed nervous system. She coughed weakly and rubbed at the drying mud on her face; the mud was turning to powder and drifting into her eyes.

She heard pulse rifle fire and shouts up ahead. She looked around and found that she no longer had her own rifle she did have the two hand guns. She blearily pulled one free from its holster and studied it; it seemed to be caked with crud. The still rational shock free portion of her mind cautioned that it might very well explode if she attempted to fire it. She glanced at the second weapon; it was in no better condition.

She let out a weary inane and wholly unconscious laugh and flipped off the safety. She stalked toward the sounds of battle, not caring about seeking cover. Happily she turned to be on her own kinds side of the lines. A group of haggard Earth warriors faced a greater number of Commonwealth interlopers. She raised her handgun and walked toward the Commonwealth troops without slowing or hiding, she began to fire. Miraculously the weapon functioned and was still sighted in. Each shot was a kill but she only had fifteen shots. As panic engulfed the enemy and swept their lines her own soldiers caught up and began to drive home the assault. Unfortunately someone on the other side took command and rallied the Commonwealth troops.

Max watched as the tide turned against them, again. She watched immortals fall, temporarily and vampires fall, permanently. She let out a wail and began firing faster. She would not let these people die, not if she could help it. Her soldiers seeing her apparent courage and not her half concussed irrationality rallied and followed in her wake.

A grenade arched through the smoky afternoon air and plopped onto a hummock of grass before Max. She roared and punted it back toward the enemy lines. It exploded four feet from Max and knocked her ass over tea kettle and into her own lines. Two soldiers knelt to check her over. She snarled and waved them off. She crawled to her knees and watched as the men and women she had nurtured and guided charged forward into death and pain.

She tried to stand and found a new hunk of shrapnel in her right upper thigh. She pulled it out and hurled it aside, she had lost her other hand gun somehow, the one she had charged with was now empty. She dropped it and got to her feet. Weaponless she advanced, her reason had taken a vacation. She only knew she would not stand and watch her people march into danger. She watched as they used their training in stealth and marksmanship to great advantage. They ripped the Commonwealth thugs to shreds. But the odds were six to one at least and the Commonwealth had air support and possibly more armor on the way. Max pulled her radio loose and keyed it.

"This is commander Holloway under heavy attack requesting assistance from any available unit." Snow greeted her in response. She cursed and kept keying the radio and repeating the request while advancing. She picked up a dropped pulse rifle and opened fire dropping three men before the weapon went dry she kept calling in assistance and using retrieved weapons while her team slowly dwindled.

Then it seemed someone in the Commonwealth unit found the ability to aim. The well placed shots drove her into cover. She cursed and wiped at the crud on her face again. Her armor was shredded. Peppered with festive glittering hunks of tank and grenade, smears of blood hers or her enemies stained her clothing and skin. Mud streaked her face and body. Her eyes were wild, showing the whites she bared her teeth like a cornered animal and spat at the enemy closing in. she drew a knife from her boot and prepared herself. Silent tears streaked through the foul crud coating her face.

She stood and prayed again to the god she professed no belief in. She even crossed herself. As the first of the enemy broke into her hideaway and she rose up with her knife ready to slash the pale throat and spill the red, red blood a bullet tore through her back and smashed her heart. She took one step, coughed up a wash of blood and fell forward. She was dead when she hit the ground.


	16. Disaster

Jezkiel's transport hovered over the battlefield. It hovered in a haze of heat and its passive and active scanners scoured the dirt and shattered vegetation. A few heat signatures warmed up became hot and active and drifted away, immortals reviving and fleeing. But there were more lukewarm and cold humanoid shapes on the screen, dead humans and vampires than there were immortals fleeing. Jezkiel ordered crisply that drag teams capture and imprison the escaping immortals. One signature intrigued the dour officer. He ordered a sweeper team to close in on it. It was hot like the immortals but unmoving.

He waited silently Kraekn fidgeted minutely, his discomfort was only obvious to his master. To the crew of the transport the two officers appeared unperturbed by any of the events in the last hours and utterly calm.

Finally the sweeper team reported in.

"It's a woman sir. She's barely alive."

"Status?"

"Enemy sir, she doesn't meet any personnel file's criteria and her uniform is non reg."

"Rank?"

"Hard to say sir, most of her kit is blown to hell she must be an Alpha sir, or she would be dead."

"Details?"

"She's been impaled sir, several times by commonwealth sabers."

"The officers of the ground battalion nailed her to the ground." Kraekn said and turned his data pad so that Jezkiel could see the sweeper teams views.

Max lay spread eagle her limbs impaled at the wrist, elbow, shoulder, hips, knees and ankles. She could not move, had given up screaming, and most disturbingly had healed around the blades, her flesh was whole but the wounds were still in evidence, it was bizarre.

Jezkiel smiled pleasantly and nodded approvingly.

"Take us in we will transport the prisoner ourselves, perhaps this is the Lioness of Earth." Jezkiel snorted.

Max floated in her own void. When she had woken she had a boot on her throat and a sword in each shoulder. Of course she had fought and been killed, she had struggled each time she awoke until every officer on the field had found it necessary to volunteer his or her ceremonial but very sharp sword to nail her to the ground. The blood had flowed hot and thick. Her body went nuts, or rather her quickening had, first she healed so that the blades were like new bones, the skin and meat and tendons clung to the surface of the razor sharp blades like they were new organs but then every movement, every breath tore the wounds open and forced fresh blood to flow. Then her quickening had stepped back and healed so that each blade was surrounded by enough clear space to avoid constant bleeding. She wondered if when she was released from her place upon the ground she would be full of holes like a human slice of swiss cheese.

She laughed wetly and glared at the men around her. One man made what she thought was a sign against the evil eye and spat. She laughed. She had only ever read about the evil eye and warding it off, it was rather amusing.

She spat a gob of gelatinous mostly congealed blood at the nearest boot and ignored the throbbing agony rippling through her frame. Someone else's boot crashed into her ribs, the spike of agony momentarily distracted her from the more constant and mundane pain distracting her thoughts. She pulled on one arm but it was completely pinned. She didn't think she could free any of her limbs enough to break free and affect any kind of escape. She felt despair threaten to engulf her, with a conscious effort she dragged her thoughts away from the looming despair and focused on her anger.

A new face loomed over her, it was narrow and cruel he was some kind of honcho; he wore power with an unconscious arrogance. It labeled him as a man used to power, accustomed to its presence. She smiled at him through bloodied teeth and uttered a curse Adam had taught her; she thought it might have been Hittite or something equally ancient. If she recalled correctly it was something along the lines of fornicating with a close male relative in a sacred place. His boot heel broke her jaw and knocked her cold.

Mac and Malcolm watched as Max was chained and bound like an animal and thrown onto Jezkiel's transport.

"That man is the High Commander of the Commonwealth armies designated for actions on Earth." Malcolm muttered. Mac nodded tightly.

He was presented with a desperate opportunity. If the rebel earthlings brought that transport down they would significantly weaken if not outright cripple much of the Commonwealth offensive, they may also truly kill Max.

"You know what she would do Mac." Malcolm said softly. Mac nodded tightly, his fist opened and closed spasmodically on his radio. Gently, firmly Malcolm slipped it from Mac's grip and keyed it as he opened his mouth to speak Mac took it back.

"All units converge fire on ascending transport, from these coordinates –" His voice was solid and firm as he called out the transports grid position. If Malcolm did not know better he would guess the Scot was giving parade ground orders. The sky was briefly cerulean as hundreds of pulse rifles and dozens of heavy fire gun platforms opened fire. The transport wobbled and then dove, smoking heavily, as it hit the ground massive amounts of flame and shrapnel erupted from its crater. Malcolm felt his stomach churn and a terrible grief choke his throat. His mind reeled and his legs unbidden drove him forward toward the crash and the carnage within. Mac's hand latched onto the younger man's arm halting his progress. He shook his head and took the lead, Malcolm followed wordlessly.

The route to the crater was not straightforward, the ground between the immortals and their kill was filled with panicked and stunned Commonwealth soldiers and their officers. Malcolm noted with detachment the many empty scabbards sported by the few officers the two men sighted. The Commonwealth troops fell like stones as the enraged and blood thirsty swarms of vampire and immortal troops rallied and fought toward their beloved commander. Within two hours the fighting had ceased the Earth people held the ground and the dozen or so captured Commonwealth soldiers looked on as the Earthlings methodically dug through the wreckage of the transport. It was obvious to any intelligent observer that no one could have survived the initial impact.

Malcolm and Mac removed Jezkiel's twisted remains and those of Kraekn as well. They set them aside to be examined by their intelligence corps. The crew was dead and their corpses scorched, in spite of their status as Commonwealth thugs Malcolm fervently hoped the men had been dead before the fire started.

They dug and hauled heavy composites until well into the night. There was literally no sign of Max or her corpse. Finally as full dark arrived Mac called a halt. He ordered Malcolm to get a read on their numbers and status.

The day had been a complete loss. As far as Mac could see the Earth fighters had likely lost half their numbers of those that lived at least half had been scattered or separated from the main force. Their supplies were lost or destroyed and their weapons stock was uncertain. Mac knew that if the Commonwealth had the men or the will to launch another assault it would wipe them out.

As Mac sat and listened to the radio making notes as more supplies or survivors were found he felt a slowly increasing sorrow and regret. He wished he had never gone with Max the day she arrived in his camp with the wolves literally on her heels, still he did not know how else the Earthlings could have survived as long as they had. All ready each and every person walking the face of the earth was living on borrowed time.

By rights every vampire should be dead killed by ground troops, shock bombs and plague, the immortals should have been bombed and slaughtered by the Jackals. That any of them lived was testament enough to Max. He refused to accept that his friend and companion was dead. So he made notes and logged another band of survivors on his knee pad and turned the radio up again.


	17. The Promised Land

The stragglers drifted in for a week after the battle. There was no sign of Max in the wrecked transport. The charred corpses of the New Humans including Jezkiel and his aide were removed and dissected studied and then burned. The loss of Jezkiel took the edge off the crusade against the Earthlings.

Mac stood at the sight of the transport wreck and wondered if he should mourn. The likelihood of Max being flung free of the transport was slim, but possible. The fire had not been hot enough to consume the other bodies in the transport so it was not logical that Max had burned to cinders either. He stood as dawn mist drifted over the carnage and felt numb. He wondered why if Max had survived the crash she hadn't returned to them.

In the brush and foliage surrounding the wreck a pair of eyes watched the Scot. They were beautiful and hard. They watched as the Scot spoke quietly to the air and then headed back to the new camp.

The eyes blinked and disappeared into the bush. A few seconds later Max emerged. She was filthy and her clothing scorched and shredded. She mounted a horse and rode away the dull thuds of the unshod hooves half muffled in the mist. Halfway to the camp Mac raised his head, he whipped around to face the wreck and sprinted back to it.

The area was silent. Discouraged he booted a hunk of half frozen dirt. It arced through the air and shattered on the ground, near a hoof mark. Mac crouched and studied it, then followed it for a distance. Finally he stood and straightened. He smiled a slow knowing smile and then laughed out loud. She lived.

* * *

She rode until the horse dropped dead under her. Then she ran until her legs failed and she collapsed, recovered she got to her battered feet and ran again. She had one destination in mind, one goal. She did not take this path lightly, had fought to avoid it. It was ungodly dangerous and might simply result in the deaths of the thousands of immortals and vampires left and leave the Commonwealth untouched but if anything could work it was this.

She was set on by wolves again but stood and tore the throats from the king and queen of the pack. The others fled she wore their royalties skins as clothing. She raced on through wilderness, barren ruinous towns, abandoned mountain passes reclaimed by rock and ice, empty desert wastes home to cactus and rodents. Finally, finally she reached her goal, she reached Colorado, and inside Colorado was a mountain. A mountain with a secret in its belly.


	18. Homecoming

Max staggered into the building. It was brick and solid, hopefully it wouldn't fall on her head during the night. She was too exhausted to care she curled up on a flat portion of floor and slipped into unconsciousness.

She woke some time later, cold and stiff. Her clothing had been shredded by her journey. Her boots long since fallen apart and abandoned. It would be winter soon. She wiggled her toes in the cold and sat up. She pulled her rags close and got to her feet.

She had made it to Colorado Springs. She didn't know where in the city she was and wasn't sure where Cheyenne Mountain was from her spot but she was not afraid. She had taken nearly four months of hectic racing and struggle to get here, now was not the time for quitting. In that time she had seen no evidence of New Humans, or interplanetary attacks from on high.

Still there was no way she could know what was happening in Seacouver, just that she had failed her people and they had been slaughtered and scattered, just like the Betas in Old New York. She shook her head pushed her filthy hair out of her face. It wouldn't do to dwell.

She broke into an abandoned sporting goods store. Most of the products were too rusted, moth eaten, or moldy to be of use but after a lot of searching and digging she managed to find boots that fit tolerably well, with two pairs of extra thick wool socks. Two new sets of clothes including pants and a jacket made of gortex and goose down. She even managed to find a tent. The light weight freeze dried food was all gone as were the cans. She hunted around hopefully but came up empty. Her stomach growled pointedly and she scowled at it.

She made her way over to the picked over hunting area. She managed to find a decent knife and a .308. She carefully disassembled and cleaned the rifle, lubing each piece and checking the movement and action. Satisfied she put it back together and hunted up some ammo. She insured they were not wet or corroded and took as many boxes as she could carry without screwing up her back or overloading her pack.

She set out looking for any familiar landmark. It had been decades since she'd been in the state let alone in the city. She sighed and started walking. After a couple hours she managed to get her bearings and started walking toward the mountain. It would probably take her two days if she headed straight there, but she couldn't she had a few things to pick up first.

* * *

Mac had supervised the reorganization of the survivors. They had returned to the caves they had once lived in. They hunted and fished and struggled to store enough food to get them through the winter. Their biggest problem was storing enough protein to keep the Betas in good health.

Mac was hunting with a small group when they spotted the incoming crafts. The group of four hunters raced back to the cave and sounded the alarm. From all throughout the cave system and the surface the Earthlings fled gathering in an evacuation cave.

The cave was massive but close enough to the surface to allow the survivors to dig out if necessary. Mac waited in silence among the crowds until the spy observers on the surface signaled the all clear.

The survey craft had been conducting flyovers for three months. The survivors knew that they could not completely mask their presence but they worked hard to minimize their footprint. They rotated hunting areas, went miles out of their way to gather firewood and plants. Still Mac knew the New Humans were zeroing in on them. They were running out of time.

* * *

Marcus nee Methos once Adam stood at his desk and hit one key, a program began to run it chewed through the local info net subtly corrupting and deleting key info foci gently inexorably crippling the info net. He stood up picked up a bag and left, he didn't bother closing the door to his habitat.

Mars was flush with activity. There was a new recruitment drive for the Commonwealth services. It was being touted as a coup for New Humanity, expanding farther into the stars, discovering new riches and adventures. Marcus knew it was a cover for recruiting replacement troops for the hundreds if not thousands dispatched to Earth to 'cleanse' it for further use.

Even Marcus wasn't sure how many New Humans had died on the planet. Large numbers certainly. Jezkiel High Commander and twisted soul of the campaign had vanished on the surface four months before. Marcus fervently hoped he had died. Ideally painfully.

He hailed a rent-port and ordered it to the public spaceport. The little automated hover craft was incapable of deviating from legal norms and had in built safeties preventing it from entering zones and regions that were off limit or listed as unsafe. So Marcus was content to get close to his ultimate destination.

Finally the little craft slipped out of traffic and settled on its composite steel skirts. It whined cheerfully and produced a receipt slip. Marcus tugged it free from the slot and paid. He stepped out retrieving his bag from the seat and took a deep breath. The little craft popped cheerfully off the road side and slipped effortlessly into traffic.

Marcus studied the street. He was standing outside the public spaceport. It was a wide squat building, meant to be a symbol of the power and majesty of the Commonwealth and New Humanity. To Marcus it failed utterly.

It had the same squat utilitarian façade as the eastern European group housing units built by the soviets. It was gray and foreboding the only outward decoration or significant signage was a sign in Latin which read: From Here to the Stars. Marcus snorted at the pretension of it all. These creatures had been given the greatest of gifts, and they responded by tearing at themselves like crazed animals. Slaughtering members of their own species because they lived longer, needed more meat, or were stronger. Marcus was sickened by New Humanity and their ancient arrogance. He spat on the street and scowled.

He turned away from the shining monument of New Humanity and headed toward the cargo area of the port. He had an appointment to keep.

* * *

Max found a hardware store at long last. She broke in and began hunting for tools. She would need at least a sledgehammer and a splitting maul. She found a heavy duty four wheel cart with slat sides. The tires were beyond flat but she managed to find four solid rubber tires that would fit it. She spent more than an hour screwing around with the cart. Once finished she began hunting for the tools she would need. She looked longingly at an air compressor and rack of pneumatic tools but knew she did not have the fuel or a generator to power it. She loaded the cart, tested the weight and roll of it and headed back to the street.

She was losing light. She took a bearing from the tallest building nearby and began looking for a place to spend the night. She wandered for a bit and then found an old public library. It looked solid. More importantly it had a wide ground level door. She shoved it open and hauled the cart in after her. She took a long look around and pulled the cart out of the direct line of sight of the door.

She took a moment to catch her breath and rest. She was terribly hungry, it was beginning to wear on her. She shook her head, straightened and began searching the library. She didn't want to find a band of crazy Lost Ones or some refugee from the vampires or the immortals. At least, not one hell bent on killing her and taking what she had.

Satisfied the building was empty, she made a mattress out of crumbling old books and drifted off.

The next morning dawned painfully bright. There was a light coating of snow on the streets. She shivered and shook her head. She had to hurry. She pulled the cart out on to the street and started walking, pulling it behind her. She trudged along head down focusing on keeping the cart's momentum and her own steps in synch.

She made good time and had made it at least halfway to the mountain by the time she had to find shelter for the night. She was hoping to find a building of some kind. After searching for an hour she settled for making a lean to out of evergreen branches. She slept badly the cold penetrated her makeshift shelter.

As soon as it was light enough to walk without tripping she was on the move. She pulled her coat close and wrapped a scarf over her lower face, she pulled a wool hat low over her ears and started pulling the cart.

She trudged along, the only sounds the woods around her and the soft clop of her own steps. Occasionally the heavily laden cart would squeal or whine. As early afternoon arrived she reached the Mountain.

It was strange seeing the empty guard shacks, the unattended barbed wire fences. The mouth of the mountain, the tunnel entering it was sealed with rubble. Max sighed and set the cart down. She rolled her shoulders and stretched her arms. She unslung the .308 and approached the mountain cautiously. The guard shack was empty, the windows broken out, a bird's nest was sitting on the desk, bird dung and footprints were all over the desk. Max approached the entrance.

The rubble was raw and new looking. Max frowned, she leaned over and picked up a stone. She weighted it in her palm and then slung it toward the rubble. It didn't bounce off.

Max frowned and clicked the safety off her rifle. She approached the mountain entrance warily. She picked up another stone and when she was less than five feet from the rubble. She hurled it hard. She heard the stone hit rock and ricochet but it wasn't visible, it had gone through the rubble.

She chuckled and went back for the cart. She set it down out side the rubble. And swallowing hard she stepped through the rubble. The tunnel was black, she sighed and pulled a matchbook out of her pocket, the first few matches crumbled, finally one lit, she held it high and looked for an emergency lighting panel. She opened the panel and looked for a reset switch. The match burned her finger she cursed and dropped it, the rest of the matches refused to light. Max sighed, closed her eyes and tried to remember what she had seen of the panel. She reached forward and hit a switch; there was a low thump and buzz from somewhere. She opened her eyes and waited for a few moments.

With a loud click and a crack a light came on. Max winced in the foreign artificial light. It was like a physical blow to the head. Slowly more lights came on and Max straightened up. The tunnel was coated with dust but unused. She stepped out and picked up the cart's tongs and hauled it into the tunnel at the far end stood a massive parking area and the personnel entrance.

She hauled the cart over gamely and stopped. She paused wondering if her eye scan and hand print would still open the doors, or if there was enough power to run the system at all. She sighed and set the cart down. She walked up to the personnel entrance and pulled the safety plate off the scanner. She frowned down at it and put her palm on the dark screen, she pressed lightly. There was a soft low thrum of power and then a bright green light scanned her palm.

She waited patiently, hopefully. There was a low click at the door. Max walked over and tugged on the handle, it moved, minutely at first. The door was weighted to withstand all but a direct nuclear hit, it was also balanced on perfectly weighted rollers. She braced herself and hauled. Slowly it creeped opened she left the cart behind for the moment and entered.

Halfway down the hall stood the guard choke point it consisted of turnstiles which required a card and retina scan for entrance. Max hopped the turnstile without incident. The guards once charged with preventing such security breaches were bone and dust. She padded along, as the emergency lighting continued to kick in.

It was eerie, the familiar halls and doors, the place where she had experienced some of the greatest things in her life, a ghost town. She almost heard the echo of warm voices, and the crash of enemy fire, she sighed and traced her hand along the horizontal colored stripe that designated the level of the hall. The air was stale and cold.

Finally she found an access shaft entrance. The hatch was closed and latched. She worked at it for an hour before admitting she needed a crowbar or something similar. She returned to the cart retrieved the lighter tools and small items and retraced her steps.

The hatch gave eventually. Max peered into the gloom. There were no emergency lights in the maintenance shaft. She checked her gear to insure it was secure and started down the shaft. She traveled down for what felt like days. Finally arms burning and fingers numb she reached the bottom.

She took a few minutes to let her fingers and arms rest. The floor was strange. It looked like magma rapidly cooled, it had the roiling lumps of a wet surface but all was dry and dusty. Max flipped her lighter opened and snapped the flame into existence. The surface of the floor was the light gray of concrete, she ran a hand over it, it was definitely concrete. She let out a low whistle and shook her head.

Several stories further down. In the murk and dusty dark a person moved. It shifted and the soft, low rattle of heavy steel chains drifted through the dust choked air.


	19. Back to the World

Max waved the lighter around and tried to see another hatch. She found one but it was half covered in the solid cement. She sighed and closed the lighter. She climbed up the ladder until she reached the nearest access hatch.

The hatch opened much easier from the inside. She peered into the hall. The emergency lighting had not yet come on. Max cautiously extricated herself from the access tunnel and slowly straightened up. As she stood in the dank silence the lights flickered and powered on. Max studied the hall for a moment, deep in thought. Finally she started walking.

She traveled through the haunted halls; the only sounds her breathing, footsteps, and the low hum of the lighting system. She opened doors occasionally or pried lockers open. But all was dusty and empty. She paused in front of one door for a very long time. Then slowly she opened it and looked inside. This room too was empty. The furniture was standard issue and held nothing. She entered and her foot scraped across the ground. Something struck her new boot and rolled out of sight. She knelt and felt around. As she stood she brought the object into the light.

It was a tiny statue of the Egyptian Sphinx. Max smiled down at it and ran a finger down its leonine spine. The real Sphinx had been rendered into radioactive rubble during the wars heralding the end of humanity on Earth. Max tucked the little statue into her pocket and left the room.

She kept walking until she reached a giant set of blast doors. She smiled at them, the ghosts of memories drifting through the halls. She sighed and pulled her coat closer. The days she dreamed of were long gone. She used a personnel entrance in the base of the blast doors and entered.

She walked to the center of the room and up a short staircase. The room was mostly empty. At the top of the stairs was a metal grate. Max knelt on the grate and peered down. Far below the concrete pool was evident. She nodded to herself and returned to the hall.

She had work to do. To get her tools down there she would either have to hump them on her back or get an elevator working.

* * *

Mac watched the New Human patrol intently. They were the first to have boots on the dirt since Jezkiel's attack. Mac was confident that he and his handpicked squad could move silently in the terrain. The intruders seemed spooked and nervous. Mac couldn't blame them. Every New Human to set foot on earth, whether Jackal or enlisted schlub had died, usually unpleasantly. Mac wondered if the Earthlings actions were fueling the fervor of the Commonwealth. He didn't care at the moment just wondered idly. He gestured for the left flank of the squad to move in.

They were fast and efficient. The Commonwealth troops didn't stand a chance, and they didn't suffer. Mac supervised the search of the bodies. All useful gear even down to the boots of the deceased were scavenged. The barefoot corpses were left in the place they died, crows began to circle and dive as the mixed group of immortals and vampires faded into the landscape.

* * *

Max sighed and sat back from her work she had managed to get her heavy gear down to the last level. She stood in the large room beyond the blast doors. A portion of the grate had been removed. She lowered a fire ladder down to the concrete and schlepped her gear down. She began hacking, and chipping away at the concrete.

As the hours swept by she sweated and dug and chipped. Her stomach no longer growled, or ached, her head ached and swam but she shook it off and kept going. On the other side of that concrete was her last hope.

* * *

Marcus sat quietly in the midst of the officials and spectators. He was sitting in the guest of honor's box at the Commonwealth celebration of Ascendance. He smiled and nodded at the dignitaries who passed by and the industrial magnates and other figures of importance. He loathed them all, the simpering disgusting reaching creatures. Mewling and whining with bloodied hands. He exhibited none of his true feelings.

A large man spoke at a podium while low orbit combat aircraft streaked the sky and myriad ranks of Jackals and ground troops stood at attention. The man at the podium turned to Marcus and spoke. The crowds went mad. Marcus was a man of importance now.

* * *

Max sat resting, she had chiseled most of a large x into the concrete. What remained to do was the last few feet of the upper right arm. Her hands ached, no mean feat for an immortal, and she trembled with exhaustion. She wiped at her forehead and sipped from a jug of water. Finally she set it aside and picked up her chisel and hammer.

She finished the X and sat back for a moment. She went back to her gear and dug around She came up with a package of black powder pilfered from the hunting section of the sporting goods store. She filled the x to a heaping level with the black powder. Going back to her gear again she pulled out a heavy duty builder's composite caulk. The black powder would only explode in a confined environment. She carefully oozed the goop on opposite sides of each arm and then as it grew tacky mounded it together to from a ridge over the powder. Standing she waited a few minutes until the caulk was hardened.

Max took a deep breath and opened her lighter she knelt near the closest arm of the X and lit the powder. It took off like a shot; she jumped backwards and covered her face.

* * *

Marcus raised his arms to the crowds for silence. Slowly it fell; he waited until absolute utter silence reigned.

"Citizens!" He cried.

"You are blessed, you are gifted. You are the best of Humanity, _New_ Humanity!" A short disciplined roar rose and subsided.

"You live in the most advanced and complex society _ever_ to exist. You have incredible life spans, science and medicine that is almost magic it is so painless and efficient. Diseases which once ravaged your people are now consigned to history. Each citizen is well guarded, healthy, and educated. There is no hunger, no poverty, no crime." Marcus roared, again the brief but succinct applause.

"Or so you believe." Marcus said oddly. The 'important people' around Marcus missed his odd turn of phrase.

"This however is the truth." He said with a dazzling smile.

"The Commonwealth has enslaved you, separated you and given you enough information and control to believe you are free and thinking. The truth is the Moon is little more than a slave state, the Jackals are genetically engineered mutants, Mars, is more police state than paradise, and the Earth is not sterile and dead but home still to humans, and you're beloved Commonwealth seeks to slaughter them. To wipe them out so they can reclaim the Earth. Take the scales from your eyes!" Marcus snarled as he raised an accusing arm toward the crowd a silent vid began to play on every electronic device and flat surface in the arena. The crowd roiled and churned with shock, confusion, and anger, they turned then the dignitaries and the crowd alike to seize the man who created such chaos.

But Marcus was gone.

* * *

All across the Commonwealth vids were displaying Marcus's video, teaching programs were hacked and their programs started to recite Marcus's version of events, the comm net was filled with overlapping audio describing the effects of Marcus's video and its contents. Every media outlet, from metapaper docs to the Commonwealth stellar econ boards were showing or discussing the vid.

Some called it a hoax, others called it lies, and some stood behind it. Then as the chaos culminated Marcus asked a question, a simple solemn question on a chat 'net devoted to discussing the vid he asked, 'why are there so many troops being recruited? Where are they going?'

The chaos deepened.

* * *

Max opened her eyes. Concrete dust drifted through the air. She peered up at the emergency lighting far above and felt her body finish healing. She sat up and felt her head swim, hunger, dehydration, or exhaustion, all of the above? She straightened and looked around. She had landed on a mass of rubble. She sighed and freed her legs; one boot was wedged between two large stones. She tugged hard; the effort threw her off balance and sent her tumbling down the pile. She hit the ground roughly and shook her dizzy head.

There was no light down here. The emergency lighting had been disabled when the concrete poured in. She slowly got to her feet and looked around peering into the dimness. She listened, craning her ears, hoping to hear a hint. She knew it was here, somewhere.

She picked up a hunk of concrete and hurled it one way, it struck something solid a few feet away and bounced back into the circle of light Max stood in. She repeated the process until the stone did not bounce back. Dusting concrete dust from her clothes and hair she went that way.

She put her hands out and felt along until she found the hall. She kept her hands barely brushing the walls. She knew it was down here just not where. Gritting her teeth she fought against the creepiness of the dark dank halls. She closed her eyes and envisioned them as they once were.

Filled to the brim with dedicated courageous mortals, sworn to protect their nation and planet, armed with alien technology and their own guts they went out into the galaxy and universe, fought evil, made mistakes and won the day. She opened her eyes and faced a huge room. She could feel the air flow change. She snapped her fingers and listened to the echo.

This had to be it. She dug around for her lighter cursing her stupidity in not searching for it before. It was long gone, likely a victim of the blast. She steeled herself and began walking forward slowly, hands outstretched. She felt nothing for a long time and then gently bumped against the opposite wall. She swallowed turned around and took a big step to the side. She started shuffling forward again and almost tripped.

She bent and reached for what had caught her foot. It was a massive steel chain. Each link was the size of her hand. She picked it up and began following it. It ended at the wall; she turned around and began following the opposite end.

She nearly screamed when her hand reached the end of the chain and hit something softer than steel. It felt like some kind of highly polished stone, but somehow soft. She brushed a hand over it, further ahead of her a chain rattled. Not the chain she was holding.

"H-hello?" She asked.

She swallowed hard and tried again.

"Hello? Anyone? My name is Max, I won't hurt you." She said with a slight quaver to her voice.

"How is it that you, a woman who has insulted alien gods fears me?" The voice was thin and faint, wooden and mostly dead. Max felt a knot in the pit of her gut. It was here all right.

"How do you know me?"

"Ahh you forget so easily." The voice was growing weaker, as though the small amount of speech had exhausted it. The chains rattled again, and there was a soft rustle, as of feathers on stone.

"Have you come to free me? Do you think I'm safe?" The question was posed in a mild tone, as one might discuss the fate of the universe in a few billion years at a fancy dress cocktail party.

"I don't know if it's safe but we. . . I need you." She said terrified.

"Ah, you _do_ know me." There was mild amusement in the dead voice. Max felt a shiver starting in the base of gut and ending in the hairs on the back of her neck. That _voice_ it was hideous, it had changed become something horrible.

She fell silent at a loss for the moment.

"Can you break your chains?" She asked finally.

"Probably." The dead voice said, hardly more than a whisper.

"I- I'll be back." Max said her voice slightly panicked. She fled back to the rubble pile and the light.

She sat gasping in the light. Her skin felt cold and her heart raced. That person, that creature chained in the dank and the cold below the mountain had been a friend once, now it terrified her, so long alone in the cold, so long in the dark, a hundred years. She shook her head and caught her breath. She looked at the rubble for the first time wondering how she would get out of the hole she was trapped in.

She waited until she felt stronger and then searched for the lighter she found it finally under a huge chunk of concrete. It seemed okay she flipped it open and tried to light it, it lit easily. She grinned, the first good news in weeks. She headed back into the tunnel.

The flickering faint light of the lighter cast shadows and weird light far into the hall, into the chamber with the chains, she swallowed hard hell bent on completing her self assigned mission.

Each step felt like she was wearing lead boots. She was terrified, had it come to this? Unleashing a creature of mythology on an unwitting world? She loathed the Commonwealth, but the people of Earth they were hers what would happen to them? She kept walking

Finally she entered the chamber but carefully avoided looking at the center. Gathering her courage she looked first at the huge chains, so old and massive they had rusted solid in some points, but nearer their prisoner some of the links were worn to silver, so long had they battered one another, jostled by the prisoner's slight movements over the years.

Then she forced her eyes to look at what the chains contained. It was a man. He was naked. His skin whiter than the first snowfall, his eyes gleamed at her like silver coals. His hair once dark if her memory did not fail was now white blonde; it drifted around his head like spider's silk wafting in the nearly imperceptible breeze under the concrete seal. His face was blank but sensitive. As she drew nearer the lighter flickered wildly, she took a step back and it became steady.

"Does the light bother you?"

"Apparently." He whispered. His thin delicate lips revealed flashes of tiny sharp pearl teeth as he spoke. His tongue was pink and bright against the smooth unbroken pallor of his skin.

"I'll set it here. Will you allow me to look at your chain?" He did not object. She stepped closer and examined the locking mechanisms on his shackles and manacles. It was quite simple. She pulled a pair of pliers out of her belt and pulled a shaft of steel free of each manacle and shackle, she dropped each to the stone where they struck and rang out like bells.

As the bonds fell away the man's back straightened, his feet touched the cold floor and he flexed his shoulders. He was a muscular man, built like a marathon runner or mountain climber. When the last manacle hit the ground he arched his back and rolled his shoulders gratefully, he was much larger than Max and as he stood straight he towered over her.

"This way." Max said softly. She started to walk back toward the light but the man stood still, like an expensive statue. He closed his eyes and remained utterly still, not breathing even for a disturbing length of time. Finally he opened his eyes and they glittered a bright inhuman silver. He smiled then and followed Max.

She dutifully led the way uncomfortably aware that he stood at her back. They reached the light. The man sat and watched as Max began piling chunks of concrete and rubble high enough to allow her to scrabble up to the floor above them. She finished her task and leaned back into the hole.

"Coming?" She asked and offered her hand. The man walked up the precarious rubble as though it were a firm flat sidewalk. Max sighed as he stood in the large room above his chamber.

"The gate room." He said softly. Max did not confirm or deny.

"The gate is gone." He said again Max remained silent.

"I don't have any food or much in the way of clothing but what I have is here. Help yourself. I'm going to see if there are any stores left."

"I do not need food." The man said. Max nodded thoughtfully.

"I should have remembered. Back soon."

As Max left the man sat crouched. He seemed content to sit; the chains had prevented him from anything but a sort of partial squat. Now he luxuriated in his movement. He looked down into his hole for awhile thinking maybe. Then he closed his eyes and threw his memories back, back before the dark, before the cold, before the crushing loneliness.

* * *

He saw human faces, terrible and beautiful faces, _angel_, he thought and shied away, he saw humans passionate, turbulent, full of strife and hope, he saw Max his savior and knew she was different just as passionate and fiery but more and less at the same time. He opened his eyes. Max was coming. She was carrying somethi

"Here." She said and handed him a plastic packet. He sniffed it and tested the weight before opening it.

A soft hiss of sealed air escaped. It smelled strongly of plastic. He wrinkled his nose and pulled out the contents of the packet.

It was a set of clothes, complete with undergarments. Slowly the man dressed. He moved like a dancer, and a man newly discovering the concept of naked versus clothed. Max watched him in fascination. Finally when he was clothed, all but his bare feet she started to lead him to the surface.

The clothing he wore was disconcerting. It was a green two piece outfit. The pants had reinforced knees and cargo pockets. The shirt was plain except for a strip where a name would go on the shoulder was a patch. It depicted a triangle, with the bottom portion missing and the two arms terminating in circles. Max felt a shiver of the past looking at him.

They headed out.


	20. Flight, Only Flight

The pale man breathed fresh air with gusto. His white flesh glowed dully in the dim moonlight, like white stones on a beach. Max stared at him as his spider silk hair was lifted and tossed by a strong wind whipping down the tunnel. Max flared her nostrils and inhaled roughly.

"Smells like snow, we'd better stay here until it passes." Max said wearily.

"You need food." The pale man said. Max didn't argue but waved an impatient hand.

"We can't leave the mountain, we'll get caught in the open before we can get to real shelter."

"If we are trapped here you will starve and die." The stranger said.

"Okay, then what do you suggest? Starve to death or freeze to death?"

"Fly." He said softly. Max looked troubled.

"You can still do that? You don't need to sit in the sun?"

"No. Gather what you will need." He said softly.

She began digging through her gear and selecting hard to find or valuable items. As she worked she ignored the man.

He knelt on one knee and pressed a closed fist to the ground. He lowered his face and breathed deeply. After a few moments of breathing there was a loud wet ripping noise and wings literally sprouted out of his flesh. They were massive, ten feet long apiece, and dull dirty grey black. They were damp with unknown fluid. He remained still for awhile while the wings stretched wide.

Max stood silently, a bag of gear in hand watching the pale man in silence. Finally he stood and folded his wings back.

"Ready?" He asked and extended his arms. Max nodded minutely and took a step toward him.

"I've never done this."

"I will not drop you." He said gently. He wrapped his cool rock hard arms around her holding her close and firm. She shivered slightly in his alien embrace and laid her cheek against the shirt of his defunct uniform. He felt like polished granite, cold, hard and so smooth. As he walked into the falling snow flurries she watched his silvered eyes flash in the dim moonlight. He winced slightly and blinked.

A small peaceful smile creased his white lips. The sunlight, dim though it was revealed the true depths of his pallor he was literally white, like a new marble statue, his eye were the same unrelieved white only his silvered pupils revealed his ability to see, his hair, eyebrows and eyelashes were the same white as his flesh. What humanity he had seemed to have been bleached out of him. He unfurled his dull storm cloud wings and ran forward as he sprinted faster he dropped in to a lunge and with an effort that rocked his granite body sprung upwards. His wings sliced and chewed at the air gaining height.

Max gasped involuntarily and clung tighter to the man as the air fell away, the only sound the wind and a low thrum as his massive wings clawed at the air. Soon the mountain was falling behind them. Her eyes watered in the cold air.

"Where do we go?" He asked his voice still soft and mild but somehow perfectly audible over the wind and wing beats.

"Colorado Springs." She said. He banked and began to drift toward the city, spiraling downward in massive lazy circles. Soon she knew she would have to bring him home, to her people, to Seacouver, then what? Could he, would he, do the unthinkable? Save her people at the cost of humanity? She shook her head against the cold and the future and clung to Simon's chest.


	21. Rough Landings

Marcus had a new face. It wouldn't hold up to real inspection but was good enough to get through a crowd. His time on Mars and the beleaguered Moon had come to an end. In the fifteen years since the Commonwealth had actively instigated genocide measures he had infiltrated their command achieved the rank of Tsar of Expansion. This meant he had unprecedented access to almost all levels of the Commonwealth security grid. The fact that he had personally and publicly committed treason had not yet it seemed caught up with the Commonwealth security squads charged with internal sweeps. Suited him, if they had caught on to him he had dozens of back doors where he could access data anyway.

He scanned the milling crowd before him. He had to steal a transport. He was disgusted by New Humanity and its arrogance but he did not wish to kill any of the cattle before him to secure his transport.

He slipped into the crowd, hunched his shoulders cast his eyes to the ground and shuffled along, just one of the crowd. As he walked he caught snatches of conversation.

"Not true, its absurd."

"I heard that all the troops are to pacify an alien enemy out near andromeda."

"Come on! Everyone knows the moons as good as a slave colony!"

And more, Marcus's work had been well wrought. Although much remained to be done, he had simply created controversy but in time the overwhelming weight of normality and the status quo of the commonwealth would come to rights again, and the people would forget, disregard, and move on, content.

He found an unlocked door to a maintenance bay. With luck there would be a shuttle inside, or a way out to the rest of the port.

* * *

Mac took careful aim on the point man of another ill trained Commonwealth patrol. As he gently squeezed the trigger on his pulse rifle his two companions fired as well, all three hit their marks. The three soldiers dropped dead leaving their sergeant standing; she took one look at the terrain and beat feet for clear land. She was babbling into her radio as she ran. Mac ignored her. 

He racked his rifle and checked the charge. Plenty left he gathered his crew up and crept back into the wild woodland.

The woods had become their best ally. While the Commonwealth could bomb the hell out of them from above, they risked losing track of survivors. So they sent hapless patrols and armored columns in instead. Fearing a bloodbath the troops were usually small in numbers and preselected for their expendability. While the Earthlings had suffered casualties the Commonwealth was taking the worst of it. Still Mac knew that sooner or later attrition would win out; the Commonwealth had billions of citizens Mac was down to a few thousand survivors. After losing Max many of the vampires and immortals had decided to flee and attempt to hide. Those that remained were the core. Too angry, bitter, or hopeless to bother lying to themselves about their chances alone, they chose to fight, to the quite literal end.

Mac allowed his crew to return to shelter to eat rest, make love, or write a journal whatever it was that kept them sane between duty shifts. Mac stood guard with the assigned patrol. He slept, sometimes four more like three hours a night now, the weight of their existence pulling on him.

* * *

Max shivered in Simon's arms Simon, her longtime friend and one time boss imprisoned for over a hundred years in the basement below the gate room in Cheyenne Mountain. She wondered if somewhere on this benighted planet the gate still existed and if her people could use it to escape this place, where her people once a secret and invaluable resource were no better than rabid dogs. She closed her eyes against the wind. 

They had left Colorado Springs the day before. Simon's strange transformation had taken a heavy toll. The energy he once held close and hot and in such abundance had faded to coals. He had needed to rest for several days in Colorado Springs and had only been able to make a few hundred miles a day. Nothing compared to his strength and powers pre-imprisonment. Max doubted he would really be able to help her; still he did not deserve eternal imprisonment, in spite of his crimes.

Simon had done something once, something terrible and irredeemable, but it had saved the Earth, saved the Galaxy from a terrible force. But the cost had been high. Simon was not human, while he had managed to appear human a hundred years ago. He was half angel the bastard offspring of heaven. He had the powers and strength of an angel but the frailty of a human. His actions to save the Earth had been born of desperate fear, treated as an animal in his home of Oro before the angels had returned and killed their children he had been a savaged boy. As the only survivor he had been a wary and crafty creature. Still the thought of losing another home, another species had driven him to the edge, he had been wounded bleeding life energy and unwilling to die without knowing his planet and humans were safe.

The humans, who knew the score, knew that terrible cost of their safety, knew that there had been little if any choice, those humans had put him in chains and poured concrete in upon his prison left him to rot for eternity. Max felt a flush of shame at the thought that she had left him there for so long.

He held her closer as he banked toward the ground she panicked instinctively and gripped him so tightly her knuckles went white. As the ground rushed up at them at the speed of suicide Simon snapped his wings wide catching a mass of air and stealing their momentum he stabbed his legs downward and landed solidly. Max slowly released her grip and put her feet on the ground.

While she could not deny that flying with Simon saved her huge amounts of time, it was also completely terrifying.


	22. Wind

Simon sat crouched next to their fire. The flames reflected from his too white flesh and back into the fire. Max sat next to him and slowly stirred their meal. Simon didn't require food but he enjoyed the taste. After so many years of deprivation Max wanted to share everything she could with him. Food, heat and cold, winter dawns, the world entire. But time was short and she was desperate. So she stirred the stew and dished it out. She ate quickly with her fingers careful to avoid being burned and then drinking the thick strong broth. Simon watched her for a few seconds and then did likewise. Once finished, he burped. Max smiled and put their tools away.

"How do you feel?" She asked adding more wood to the flames.

Simon sat silent for a few moments. He was stronger, every day; every flight banked and fed the core of his power. The watery sunlight and arctic sky fed him as well as the stew. But he was not himself, may never be himself again.

"Better." He said finally. His voice was calm and clear, bell like in the deserted landscape. Max nodded.

"Can you fly?"

Simon smiled minutely.

"I can always fly, I cannot always land." He said. Max fought back a shiver as his voice seemed to stroke her spine. She didn't bother prodding him further. She waited in silence for an hour before the Nephilim spoke again.

"Come we can make good time if we catch this wind." He said abruptly. He stood up and opened his arms to her. She adjusted her pack and secured its straps. Swallowing hard and showing very little fear Max stepped into his embrace.

He wrapped his stony arms around her in an implacable embrace and held her close and safe.

As he leapt into the air and spread his storm gray wings into the solid wind she heard him.

"You will never fall from my arms." But he had not spoken and seemed wholly concentrated on gaining height. Max shivered and shook her head. She closed her eyes and thought about the future.

* * *

Mac smiled humorlessly and sent his troops forward the Commonwealth troops died quickly and quietly. They were stripped of all useful items and left to rot or be discovered by another squad.

Mac scrubbed at his face as his troops vanished into the landscape. While the Commonwealth and the Earthlings were at something of a standoff, all were aware that it was a temporary situation.

Mac expected a new commander to take over the Commonwealth interests at any point and renew the ruthless attack begun by Jezkiel. He struggled to insure his people had some chance of surviving, however slim.

The vampires were susceptible to many of the engineered diseases unleashed by the Commonwealth. The immortals could not be assaulted through disease; their systems were so hardened against such incursions that any illness capable of wiping them out would also kill off nearly everything else on the planet with a heartbeat. So hunters had been sent crack units of human troops, and less human Jackals. The combined forces of immortals and vampires had wiped them out, eventually.

Mac re-entered their temporary sanctuary and tiredly accepted his ration for the day. Their food supplies were low. He sniffed at the dried unidentifiable protein and shriveled vegetables. He sat and wearily began eating.

* * *

Marcus stared down at the globe of the Earth. He stood on the infamous Stage One Platform. Waller had been an ally of Marcus's. The man had no idea of Marcus' agenda. He had received detailed reports regarding the 'incident', which had been clumsily explained away by the reigning powers of the Commonwealth, the common citizens however had been lulled only as far as the surface. Rebellion and discontent began to simmer away in quiet overlooked corners among the downtrodden and bitter.

Marcus smiled at the Earth and his memories of her. She was his most steadfast companion. He had traveled her surface for millennia, been deep into her and crested the highest points of her surface. Been washed by her endless seas, seen her rise and decline, been battered and murdered on her flesh and renewed within her secret places. She was dear to him.

"Azahd?" A voice broke into the immortal's reverie. He looked up and spotted Waller. The man grinned at him. Marcus –now Azahd grinned. His new face was an excellent disguise far superior to the temp insert he had used to get off Mars. This would withstand all but a deep med probe.

"Commander Waller." Azahd greeted the commander.

"I trust my Second has seen to your needs?"

"Yes indeed Harrison is a most efficient man." The officer had balked and gone pale when Azahd had spoken their code word. But Harrison had recovered admirably and completed his duties flawlessly.

"I agree truly this station would fall apart without him. Unfortunately I cannot get him cleared for promotion. It seems the late lamented Jezkiel pulled some dubious strings to keep him where he is."

"A regrettable waste, still it must serve your needs?" Azahd asked slightly teasing.

"I freely admit that I would soon be at wits end without him" Waller said and laughed.

"Not to bring this most pleasant meeting to an untimely end but tell me when may I descend?"

"To Earth?" Waller asked eyes narrowed.

"Where else?"

"Azahd friend the truth is the Earth is not at all safe. Jezkiel's campaign stalled after his death and the committee charged with continuing it is merely bungling it and getting good young men and women killed for no reason. I hesitate to send you down there."

Azahd laughed.

"Do you remember in the Academy? When we were undergoing final term limits?"

"Yes the obstacle course."

"You were afraid for me then and yet I brought us both through with hardly a scratch – well hardly more than a manly scar good for tall tales at cocktail parties." Azahd scoffed.

"Azahd-"

"I have my orders Waller, as do you. Mine read that I am to descend to the Earth and review our activities. Yours read to assist me in that. Now I realize that even with the indomitable Harrison at your side this platform will grind to a halt against a wall of inefficiency without you. So I go down, I go alone and you stay here."

"Azahd! I will not send you down there without an escort." Waller said.

"And how would that look? I arrive at my new command with a squad of strangers to 'watch' my back from the troops I am expected to lead?"

"Azahd this is . . . fine but I'll need a day to review the security situation and liaise with the base camp."

"You get two hours."

"Still impossible I see."

"Well some things never change." Azahd said with a wide grin.

* * *

Max slept fitfully in the arms of her concrete friend. He flew on gliding on thermals and behaving as much like a long flying seldom landing albatross as he could. But his wings ached and his back trembled with fatigue.

He surveyed the blasted and decayed land below him and felt a stirring of confusion and annoyance. He regretted allowing the SGC to bury him in concrete and chains, but then he had urged them to take that action in the first place. Still if he had been aware could he have stopped the end of his world?

Max said humanity had taken over the solar system and it was only immortals and vampires – he was still amused by the existence of vampires – who remained. He wondered what had happened to the demi-demons and nameless creatures he had dealt with in his own little corner of the world. Perhaps Sharky was running a butcher's shop in a quiet corner of some Martian town. Simon smiled and then gasped as he lost his thermal and had to struggle to catch himself and Max and keep from tumbling to the ground. He set his jaw, managed to maintain height and began searching for a place to rest.

He spotted a decrepit skyscraper far below him and began gliding toward it. If the building had the steel infrastructure of the more modern structures then it would be safe to rest there. He managed to land on one of the taller supports without waking Max. The floors had rotted away as had most of the walls. It looked like fire had raged through the interior as well. He managed to find a sheltered corner. He laid Max down gently and hunching over her used his wings to shield them both before slipping into a restful doze.

As he doze the sun crept to the horizon and began to set, the gold pink rays shot across the sky and lit on Simon. He sat crouched, his massive storm wings arched over Max as she lay unconscious on her side. His own visage was relaxed and calm. The light played across his alabaster features and Max's wind flushed soft human skin. As the sun lit up the last of the sky the Nephilim's pallid flesh absorbed the heat and rays matching for an instance the warm tones of Max's flesh before fading into the dusk.

* * *

Cassandra stood amongst the handful of Lost Ones still determined to stand by their friends. Most were terribly ill or injured or simply too young to participate in any meaningful way.

After the loss of Max and the near defeat of the Earthlings Cassandra had resigned from her position as a commander and taken on the burden of caring for those too injured, too shocked, too horrified to carry on the fight.

Jack Huard, vampire and sometime blowhard appeared at the entrance to the cave and watched Cassandra minister to her charges. A tiny girl no more than five trailed behind the immortal and handed her clean cloths whenever necessary. Cassandra would kneel and speak to a charge, or give out a ration, occasionally she would use the Voice to soothe a fevered dream or defy pain.

Jack heaved a sigh and trudged toward the red head. She stiffened at his approach, her expression thinned to a small tight line. She spoke to the little girl who hurried off on some imaginary errand of great import. Cassandra dutifully awaited Jack.

"May I be of service commander?" She asked stiffly. Jack frowned.

"Why so formal?" He demanded. He was tired and soar. His vampires were dying away. Victims of the Commonwealth troops, Commonwealth engineered plagues, or malnutrition.

"You know why I'm here." He said harshly. Cassandra nodded gracefully and began to wind her way through the clumps of patients and to her own private quarters. Jack followed.

The vampires did not need blood, were quick to point out that any source of protein could suffice. But it was not true, not entirely. Yes under normal circumstances protein was all they needed. But now, with the raging diseases, limited rations and constant combat blood was the perfect food source immortal blood in particular. Jack had approached Cassandra with the idea of a blood bank, but practically it was impossible.

The refugees had no way to store or even draw sufficient amounts of blood to sate the vampires so direct transfer was the only feasible method. Slowly word had spread and pairs of immortals and vampires had formed. The immortals gained important allies while the vampires gained strength, and nourishment and possibly some immunity to the still active plague.

Cassandra offered her arm to Huard. He stared at her wanting as always more than just blood, wanting affection wanting a connection. But Cassandra's blank green eyes were statement enough. He took her wrist and felt his teeth bud. He was gentle but efficient and took only what he needed.

* * *

Azahd nearly trembled with eagerness. He had eventually convinced Waller to allow him to descend alone. Azahd had taken the time to quietly let Harrison know he was off the hook safe to be his own man, free to be the officer he looked to be. As his auto-shuttle approached the base camp Azahd did a quick scan to look for threats. It would not do to be incinerated by one of his own people on landing. The auto shuttle settled in the landing area and the door seals popped softly. Azahd waited for the ground crew to open it up and help him out. He had two days to cripple this base camp, escape and find his own people. Two days.

* * *

Max stood next to Simon. They stared down at the raw reclaimed land below as wind whistled and screamed through their perch. They stayed on the skeleton of the skyscraper for nearly a week.

Something about the height and the abundance of clean direct sun pleased Simon. He would sit for hours on the highest remnant of the structure. Face to the sun and the icy wind. Max worked on sorting and repairing her kit at first and then she watched as Simon for lack of a better word healed.

He looked like a plant seedling bent and pale until the rich rays of the sun pounded upon it bringing life and health. Finally after several days he returned to Max's side. His flesh had more color, his silver eyes were a darker gunmetal gray, his spider silk hair was more gold than silver but his wings, his wings were a dusky gray red, gorgeous.

Max grinned at him.

"Looking more yourself. How do you feel?"

"Strong." He said with a grin. The cold bell-like tone of his voice had vanished, the tone was rich and raw.

"Good." Max said satisfied. He opened his arms and she stepped close. As he wrapped his arms around her, they were as secure and rigid as ever but they were also warm. She snuggled close to him and rejoiced as he dove off the skyscraper and took to the air.

* * *

Methos walked away from the base camp. Behind him the hundreds of men and women manning the camp drifted into sleep and then death as the medium fast poison he had introduced into their water rations took effect. They would all be dead in the next twenty minutes. They would have a painless peaceful death. He was capable of that much mercy.

As he walked he was undeniably himself, Marcus, Azhad, the faceless drone all fell away. There was only Methos the oldest immortal.

* * *

As Waller again attempted to contact the base camp with no response Harrison busily scanned the camp via satellite checking for any abnormalities. As he re-read the infrared scan he felt a lump in his gut.

"Sir you should see this." He said. Waller broke off his attempt to contact the base and turned to see what had captured his second's attention.

"Sir this is an IR scan of the camp." The only warm spots were solar powered generators and animal life.

"Where are our troops?" Waller asked thickly. Harrison swallowed hard and ran another scan. This one was designed to pick up on the gasses released by decaying meat, it was useful for finding missing patrols and obscure battle sites after the fact. This scan revealed hundreds of corpses. Waller went white and whipped around he began snapping out crisp efficient orders.

The Commonwealth had just lost another army to Earth.

* * *

"How will you find them?" Simon asked as the pair soared over the Rocky Mountain range.

"I don't really know." Max admitted.

"Heh fly around and hope?" Simon asked archly. Max smiled it was a shadow of his old self.

"I gotta get some use out of you." Max snickered. Simon twitched his wings and they plummeted toward the Earth. Max remained silent until the ground was so close she could see individual trees and then let out a shriek. Simon twitched again and they were arcing skyward.

"Jerk." Max gasped catching her breath. Simon chuckled and flapped hard building speed and heading for Seacouver.


	23. Happenstance

Simon slept easily. He normally did not sleep, or eat, he dozed and he basked in the sun like a lizard. Once he had hardly required that much and before that long long before he had not needed to rest at all.

In the days of Oro.

Oro his birthplace, his home, his . . . nightmare. He stirred in his sleep and sighed brokenly.

The other Nephilim were loved and celebrated by their human mothers. Not Simon. His birth had cost his mother her life. That he had survived his infancy was truly miraculous. He had grown to a cunning toddler and savage youth. He had beaten his cousins and siblings, attacked them and forced them to teach them the magics of their fathers. His own father had rarely been scene in Oro.

He attacked and fought, struck first to avoid being jumped or mauled by the others. The human women the mothers were cruel to him, fearing him because he had killed his mother, hating him for the bruises and cuts he inflicted on their own children.

Even Kushiel's infrequent visits were not enough to sway the people of Oro to treat the orphan among them with any feeling but indifferent contempt. So the boy had been twisted by his upbringing. Fighting for everything from the food he ate to the basic knowledge afforded him.

When the End came and Kushiel and the other angels swept over Oro like a plague Simon had watched his one world collapse in blood and flames. He had sworn to never allow the same to happen to Earth and its humans.

Now he faced just that choice, kill the humans and save the immortals and vampires, or spare the humans and watch while his friends were slaughtered.

He sighed softly and his right hand twitched.

"Oro." He whispered and his voice was twisted in agony. Max sat up from her own bed of furs and reached over to Simon, she put a hand on his arm and shook him slightly. He sighed and slipped further into sleep.

* * *

Methos finally found some sign of his people nine days after leaving the camp. He knew time was short before the Commonwealth acted. He wasn't sure what their response would be but he was hoping there enough murmurs and other obstacles in the way to force the war into the open or convince the Commonwealth to back off. It was out of his hands now.

* * *

Max and Simon walked along a wide river. The banks of the river were devoid of vegetation. The walk was pleasant and the sun warm but Max was frightened.

They had found no sign of the Earthlings.

It made sense that they would make themselves scarce but Max was terrified she was too late, that they had all been killed. Simon trailed behind Max, his wings were gone. He could call them at will but enjoyed walking. He still wore the tattered uniform Max had found for him. He went bare foot though and his shirt was battered and torn from his wings and the vegetation they fought through.

Max had insisted they walk, afraid to miss something from the air.

* * *

Methos paused to refill his canteen at a shallow wide river and listened quietly while the icy water burbled into his canteen. Something had disturbed the songbirds. He capped his canteen and stowed it. Pulling a pulse pistol he killed the safety and crept toward the pocket of silence.

* * *

Max crouched in the shade of a stand of evergreens. Simon pulled off his nearly useless shirt and carefully buried it. He sat next to Max for a few minutes. She didn't move to speak or interact with him, bored he stood up and approached the river. Not bothering to remove his pants he waded into the water until near the center he was up to his waist. He knelt and then leaned backwards allowing the water to engulf him. Like the immortals he did not need to breathe under water, unlike them he did not need to breathe at all.

He stayed there listening to the river and the white water further down, the fish flipping to and fro, swimming, fighting, and eating. A loud crash brought him upright. Max was standing at the shore, a ripple of water spread over the fast moving river before being washed away in the turbulence, she held a large stone in one hand and gestured downstream.

Simon quickly left the water and joined Max.

"I saw something moving down stream. I think it was a person."

"So you threw a rock at me?"

"Uh, well, yeah."

"If its human it probably knows we're here. Let's go see." Simon said and stepped forward. Max grabbed his wrist.

"Simon this could be –"

"Let me." He said annoyed.

"What can they do? Kill me?" He challenged. Max tried to argue but Simon shook her off.

He stalked toward Max's imaginary threat.

Methos froze someone was coming toward him. He aimed carefully with the pulse pistol. The person, a man appeared in the greenery. He seemed to stumble and straighten, Methos locked eyes and stood up slowly insuring his weapon was fully visible.

* * *

Max followed Simon impatiently, she had not risked everything to free him only to watch him get killed, okay the odds of any human vampire immortal or other being able to injure let alone kill Simon were pretty damn slim but still. She pulled her knife and followed Simon.

"Who are you?" The stranger demanded of Simon. Simon remained still and silent he could hear Max approaching from behind. So could the stranger. His eyes flickered toward the movement and then locked onto Simon again.

"Who's there?" Methos demanded.

"Methos?" A familiar voice called back. Methos frowned and moved so that Simon and the newcomer would be covered by his weapon. The newcomer finally emerged and spotted Methos.

"Max?" The incredulous immortal asked. Max grinned manically.

"Methos? How the fuck did you get down here?" Methos grinned at Max but cut suspicious eyes back toward Simon.

"Don't get me wrong Max its great to see you but who's he?"

"Name's Simon, I'm one of you." Simon blurted.

"Nope no way no buzz." Methos challenged. Simon thought fast.

"You didn't feel her did you?"

"Heh wrong I felt her, I can feel all of us." Simon was surprised but hid it well. According to Max most immortals were very careful to hide their presence from one another. It would not do to distract a comrade at a crucial moment.

"Ah well then." Simon said and trailed off. Methos' weapon was still pointed at Simon.

"He's with me Methos, he's okay, he's not immortal but he's not human either."

"Not a Lost One huh, vampire?"

"Not exactly." Simon said and grinned charmingly.

"Damnit he's with me okay? Relax for chrissake." Max grumbled. Slowly Methos lowered the weapon. Max immediately embraced him with enough strength to make his back pop in several places.

The three hunkered down at the river bank and shared their stories, at least Methos and Max did. Simon remained silent content to let Max fill the older immortal in on whatever he might need to know. But he didn't ask about Simon at all.

"So where is everyone?" Methos asked.

"I don't know. I expected them to go to ground but . . ."

"Relax they haven't won yet." Max relaxed minutely.

"Any ideas?" She asked Methos.

"Ask him, or is he just decoration?"

"Leave Simon alone." Max growled. Methos shrugged.

"I haven't gone South."

"We came from the South."

"Fuck, well if we had an aircraft we could do an aerial survey but . . ." Methos trailed off frustrated. He honestly had not thought it would be so difficult to find his people. He had checked out the areas the base camp had considered high threat with no results.

"Uh well." Simon said. Methos looked up at him. Simon arched an eyebrow in question at Max.

"Oh fine." Max said with a smile.

Simon nodded and took a deep breath he knelt on one knee and put his right fist to the ground. He closed his eyes and frowned in concentration. There was a loud wet snapping pop and his wings appeared. He remained still for a moment and unfurled them. They were even redder than before. In the warm sunlight Simon stood and flapped them to remove the worst of the goop. He left them stretched to catch the sun and dry.

He was six foot four. His hair had darkened to a rich blonde. His eyes were still gun metal gray but his skin tone had reddened and darkened to a nice anglo-tan. His physique was till perfect and his flesh was still too smooth and rock hard but he could pass as one of the pseudo-humans as long as his wings weren't showing.

Methos let out a low whistle.

Simon cocked his head.

"Wanna ride?" Simon asked. Methos cut his eyes toward Max who carefully avoided his gaze.

"Angel?" Methos asked. It wouldn't be surprising dozens of religions scattered across the continents from ancient times until now had legends of supernatural creatures with wings. Some evil some benevolent.

Simon scowled savagely and spat.

"Nephilim." He said. Methos nodded.

"Okay." He said and stood. Simon walked behind the immortal and caught him up with one arm across the immortal's chest and one above his belt to balance his weight. He leapt straight up and managed to get enough height to use his wings to break free of the trees. Max remained next to the river watching the two men take off.

Simon gained height and began to soar.

"Any particular direction in mind?" He asked.

"How come you don't have to shout over the wind?" Methos shouted in question. Simon smiled and Methos sense his amusement.

"Because I am not speaking out loud." Simon answered. Methos scowled and slammed his mental defenses into place.

"I can't fly and talk at the same time, you know how much energy it takes to keep us both up here?" Simon shouted using his actual voice. Methos relaxed his shield enough to allow the Nephilim to communicate.

"You shouldn't invade a persons' mind without warning or permission." Methos snarled mentally.

"You shouldn't try to shoot people you don't know." Simon pointed out.

"It's a fairly useful way to not get shot." Methos snapped back, the level of hostility in the message distracted Simon and he lost a few feet of height.

"Try to rein it back or you'll get us hurt." He admonished the immortal.

"So where to?"

"Stay as we are for a few minutes I want to get a feel for the area." Simon obeyed. He wasn't fond of this man, his thoughts were slick with suspicion and savagery, and he was old. Older than anyone he had encountered since being awoken.

"How old are you?" He asked.

"I'm the oldest."

"Immortal?"

"No the oldest peach pit."

"Huh nice to meet you."

"How 'bout you?" Methos asked attempting to be polite. Making small talk while flying hundreds of feet above a forest didn't seem sane to him but oh well.

"Couple hundred thousand, give or take." Simon replied. He banked and headed lower without waiting for Methos's reply. The immortal remained silent. Stunned, or contemplative, Simon didn't care either way.

Finally as the two men spiraled further from Max Methos asked Simon to land. They were a good thirty or forty miles from Max.

Methos knelt and examined something beyond Simon's sight. Finally the immortal stood.

"They're near here we need to get Max."

"I can only carry one person at a time you'll need to stay here." Simon said. Methos nodded. Simon launched himself skyward and headed back for Max.


	24. Agendas

Simon soared straight up. He gained far more height than he really needed and gazed at the land below him. It was beautiful. It had once been twisted and marred by roads, access routes, hiking trails, ranger stations, and other buildings. But now the land had healed around it all reclaimed it and thrown down the buildings.

He twitched and darted down through the cold air careening toward the ground in a suicide dive. Max waited patiently. He might have missed her if he had not made a habit of memorizing her location each time they separated. She sprang up from her hiding spot and wordlessly accepted his embrace.

He leapt upward again in a rush of wings and winds. He landed silently and released Max she raced ahead and joined Methos. Simon paused closed his eyes and shuddered slowly, he remained still for a moment and then opened his eyes, the wings were gone. He followed the immortals.

Methos was examining a strip of cloth, it was a dirty off white faded, ragged and weather worn. Methos smelled it briefly and handed it to Max. Max studied it hiding her own confusion, well attempting to. Simon smiled and extended a hand. She gave it to him.

Simon sniffed it and discovered myriad scents. But one in particular was interesting.

"Who is she?" He asked Methos.

"Cassandra." The immortal replied as though that single name could explain everything. Simon tossed the fragment back to the immortal, perhaps to the immortal that name did explain everything.

Simon trailed behind the two immortals content to rest his tired muscles and examine the new land around him. While he and Max had traveled a fair ways across the new America it had mostly been by wing. Now he could feel the pine needles under his feet, feel the roots and pine cones, the discarded nut shells, the fine warm dirt, smell the passing animals and feel the cool wind on his skin.

He liked Earth.

Methos and Max were talking softly as they walked.

"I like Earth." Simon said breaking their stream of conversation.

"Uh, 'kay that's good Simon." Max said perplexed.

To his credit Methos had not asked Max how she knew a Nephilim, or where to find one, or even why she would have bothered. But he spoke up now.

"What makes you say that?" Methos asked.

"I'm not sure. I do though, I quite like Earth always have. Its very high on my list."

"Do you like Humans?"

"Well, I would say so. I am half human, the better half I like to think."

"Right." Methos said with a cock of his head. As the immortals turned and began walking once more Simon heard Methos begin to grill Max about him. Simon smiled.

He luxuriated in the freedom and strength of his being. Each day, each sunrise, each flight increased his fire fed his core. He may never be what he had been . . . before, before the chains . . . before the _act_. But he would be fire incarnate if it were required.

He grinned and laughed to himself.

Methos turned away from the laughing half angel and caught Max's eye.

"He's okay Methos." Max grunted.

"Whatever you say." Methos said sourly.

"Look he's on our side, okay?" Max growled.

"How do you know that Max? Look for the five thousand _plus_ years I've been around I have seen and done some extraordinary things but he, _he_ is _over_ two-hundred thousand years old. Okay? He is not human whatever his blood says –"

"Neither are we." Max snapped.

"Shut up and listen Max, we do not know what his motivations are, can not know. As old as I am even I can't fathom what makes him tick. So you think he'll help us? Okay, but understand this. He is _not_ one of us. For christ's sake Max he has twenty-foot fucking wings that disappear and reappear! Just promise me that no matter what you do, you remember what he is." Methos said harshly, he was gripping her forearm in a too tight grip. He released her. She kept his gaze her hostility and resentment simmering just under the surface. She swallowed hard and nodded.

Her rage was a constant, swelling and crashing against her ever strong will. But she agreed. The Simon she had known so long ago in Seacouver, that Simon she had known, or thought she had until he slammed her with a taste of his power, grew wings and vanished. She ground her teeth in angry frustration. Methos was right she had underestimated Simon, taken him for granted. So what if he turned on them? What the _fuck_ could she do about it?

She felt panic surge in her gut and fought it down.

He had the power to annihilate the surface of a planet and she had let him out. She felt sick suddenly, light headed and weak.

What made her think he would help them? She had been one of the people who locked him away. She had watched as the concrete was poured, sure she had cried over it and agonized but when it came down to it she may as well have been the one to lock the mountain up and forget about him. She cut a glance back toward the Nephilim.

He was singing to himself and trailing after the immortals. He seemed content and fairly satisfied but what did that mean?

She shook her head and concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other and finding their people. She could feel Simon's eyes on her back like fire. His song was utterly foreign to her ears but beautiful. She allowed the tune to invade and calm her thoughts and kept walking.

Simon was content. The Earth was much as he remembered it once millennia before. Of course the scars of civilization remained but he was patient. He could wait until all signs were faded.

If Max and her people wanted to stay on his planet he would not mind so long as they were more respectful than the humans. Humans he thought were in their way at least as destructive and capable of darkness as his angelic father Kushiel. Still he preferred the humans, in all their flavors to the angels.

He reached a new verse of his song. It was a lullaby he recalled the mothers of Oro singing. It was quite beautiful to hear but the words were odd. He sang cheerfully and well.

Max crumpled her panic into a ball and shoved it to the back of her mind. She caught up with Methos.

"What do we do?"

"First off find the others figure out what's going on after that . . . well, we'll have to have a talk with your friend." Methos said sourly.

"Adam I didn't think it through I admit that but he didn't deserve to stay where he was and . . . he _can_ help us." She unconsciously used the pseudonym she had known Methos by for decades.

"If he's willing. What makes you think he will?"

"He's. . . he was my friend."

"Was? Why don't you tell me the whole story?"

"You remember the SGC?"

"Of course hard to forget."

"Before we – I joined them I worked for Simon I knew he wasn't human that he called himself a Nephilim but I didn't know what that was. He was fair and kind, he gave me a job when I really needed one. Then . . . something happened he got spooked freaked me out and vanished for like ten years. I met him again when I was at the SGC we brought him in. He helped us but . . . you remember the Goa'uld?"

Methos nodded.

"Well the SGC and their allies took them apart only to find a new enemy a bigger threat, the Ori. We were getting our butts kicked, backs to the wall on the verge of losing everything and he. . . well I don't know exactly what he did. We found him in the middle of a wasteland the Ori were gone. He demanded we chain him in the bottom of the mountain and pour concrete over him."

"Jesus and you did?"

"He wouldn't take no for an answer!" Max said defensively she looked back at Simon to see if he was listening he was still singing.

"How long?" Methos asked softly.

"I'm not sure but close to a hundred years."

"Ah fuck Max what the hell were you thinking?"

"That he has the power to end all this quickly without killing too many more of us." She snarled.

"Look Adam I know you've spent years up on Mars with your spiderweb plots and lies trying to do what you could for us but . . .its harder down here. I can't hate the mortals I _can't_ as much as I want to as justified as it might be every death ours and _theirs_ weighs on me Adam. As fucked up as I am I can understand that this is ultimately a pointless exercise. We're fighting ourselves Adam and if he can stop this goddamned thing before anyone else dies so much the better."

"Yeah? Fine Ma but what if? What if he sees this place as _his_ what if he decides he doesn't want any of us here?"

"Adam that's nuts why would he –"

"Because hes 200,000 years old Max. Who knows what he's thinking?"

"Fine let's ask him shall we?" She snarled.

"Simon?" She called.

"Yes Max?" He said interrupting his song.

"Adam here wants to know if you plan to take over the earth or if you want to help us stop this war and survive. So what's it gonna be?" Her anger was obvious.

"I'll let you know." Simon said.

At that moment it would have been possible to knock Max over with a feather. She stood stock still and slack jawed.

"Simon-"

"Let's go Max." Methos said snapping her attention. She turned on her heel and stomped after the older immortal.

"Don't push it Max." He warned.

"You wanted to know." She growled.

"Let's just find Cassandra and Mac." He grumbled.

Simon watched with a merry twinkle in his eyes.


	25. Capture

Simon sat smiling his Cheshire cat smile as Methos and Max started a fire and readied themselves for night. The Nephilim fairly buzzed with wild eyed eagerness. A sense of expectation, of raw energy and impending change boiled through his stony frame. His eyes glowed gently in the evening light.

"Hey Simon?"

"Yes Max?" He asked and his voice burbled with good cheer.

"You're giving me the fuckin creeps man." She said and cleared a place near the fire to sleep on.

"Ah is that bad?"

"For me yeah. Hey if we go to sleep you won't do anything weird will you?"

"Define weird?" He asked and laughed an infectious chuckling laugh. Max spared him a thin smile.

"Yeah right." The banter while light on the surface was calculated. Max wanted to ground Simon to remind him of their friendship remind him that at one point he had risked everything just to apologize to her. So she bantered and teased and tried to make him see her, not the immortal, not the commander of an army, not the desperate woman struggling to save lives, just her, Max Holloway his friend.

She slept uneasily tossing and turning wild images and glimpses of horror from the past rose up like scarecrows in the dark. She muttered and gasped and thrashed in her sleep. Her expression alternated between extreme pain and grief.

Simon crouched over her dreaming form examining her closely. His expression was intent but confused, it was as though all the years chained under Cheyenne mountain had destroyed his concept of human emotion or perhaps he simply no longer felt the need to hide his own alien ignorance of the condition any longer. Who was left to harm him?

As Max moaned again he reached down and brushed a finger along her jawline, she went still and limp, her breathing deepened and expression relaxed. Simon closed his eyes and sat back on his heels; he threw his head back and grimaced. Max's pain and twisted nightmares rocketed through him for a few seconds. He opened his eyes, cocked his head like a confused bird and frowned at Max. He shook his head and retreated back to his perch.

On the other side of the fire Methos closed his eyes. The Nephilim was probably crazy the ancient immortal decided but he would have to wait if he agreed to assist the Earthlings so much the better. After that? Well he had some thinking to do.

As dawn broke Max and Methos were dousing the coals of their fire. Simon seemed to be asleep but he was sitting bolt upright against a tree. He was utterly still more statue than living being. His skin had darkened further until it was a dusky high summer tan. His hair had become a gold blonde but his eyes were the same gun steel gray.

"Hey." Max said kneeling next to Simon he did not move. She reached out and put a hand on his right bicep. He was colder than stone and his flesh immovable she shoved against him and he rocked against the tree slightly.

"What the fuck?" She asked softly, rhetorically.

He blinked then slow and long and smiled up at her fully aware.

"Jesus Simon what the hell?" Max asked annoyed. He stood up abruptly and grinned his weird grin.

"Shall we?" He asked eyes alight with delight.

Methos wordlessly took point and led the strange little troop along. Two hours later they were jumped.

Max was chagrinned, perhaps she had been distracted by Simon or even Methos's familiar presence. She enjoyed having the ancient along it felt like the old days; she no longer felt the pressure of the world on her shoulders until they were surrounded by six armed Earthlings with seriously unfriendly expressions.

"Uh hi." She said hands up Methos mimicked her posture. Simon busied himself examining the strange rifles pointed at him.

"Who are you?" Max assumed it was the squad sergeant asking. She was an unfamiliar vampire.

"Max Holloway." Max said. The woman snorted.

"My men tell me you're immortal but Max Holloway is dead lady, she burned six months ago." The sergeant snarled. She gestured at her squad. They disarmed and tied the three.

"Welcome home." Max said wearily to Methos.

"Hey what are those?" Simon asked gesturing with his chin to the strange weapons.

"Pulse rifles I'll explain 'em later." Max said. One of the immortals behind her thumped her in the kidney with his rifle butt. Max grunted and dropped to one knee she glared and spat then stood and faced her abuser.

"I'll remember that." She said with a mad grin. The soldier shoved her in line behind the men and followed close behind them.

It took the nine of them another forty-five minutes to reach the local enclave. The region commander took their photos and prints and sent hardcopies via courier to the central command.

"How long before you get an answer?" Max asked. The aggressive soldier moved to strike her again. Instead of backpedaling Max glared and got in his face.

"No more than four hours." The vampire said glaring her man back to his place.

"Good you gonna uncuff us?" She demanded. The sergeant frowned.

"Look we aren't human okay?"

"Doesn't mean you're with us."

"If you keep frowning like that you'll get wrinkles." Methos chimed in. The vampire gave him a confused look.

'Heh." Simon said to round things off. The sergeant pulled her men away a few feet and then left the room.

The building was half assed at best. It was situated in the rear of a rotting barn the three companions were shoe horned into a battered stall. They sat in a semicircle facing the stall door.

"What now?" Methos asked.

"Wait I guess, hey at least we found them." Max said and yawned.

"Bad night?" Methos asked.

"Yeah bad dreams nothing new." She said and leaned forward testing the ropes she was bound with.

Three hours later the sergeant reappeared.

"The messenger got back that quickly huh?" Max said with a grin. Behind the sergeant stood the abusive little immortal he was scowling darkly and holding a bundle of cloth.

"My apologies commander the corporal has new uniforms for you and your companions we have transport available to take you to HQ."

"Why thanks sarge, give us a little privacy?" Max asked the sergeant accepting the clothing from the corporal, for his part the corporal managed to avoid eye contact.

Twenty minutes later she and Methos had changed - Simon preferred his own ragged clothes – and they were on their way to see Huard, Mac, and Cassandra. Max finally felt like maybe things could work out.

Simon watched the little barn fade into the greenery as the Jeep transporting them raced along. He liked the feel of the wind. He wondered what would happen to the man who had struck Max, knowing the feisty little female it would not be pleasant. Of course she had had quite a few years in his absence to mature and change. He bared his teeth into the wind as the Jeep revved up and shot through the woods.

Things were looking up.


	26. What Now?

Mac paced with nervous energy. Jack Huard and Cassandra watched him. Cassandra was smirking in good natured amusement. Jack merely seemed irritated and put out.

"Why must we wait?" Jack demanded.

"Commander, you have been excused to return to your duties." Mac growled.

"That is not what I meant _immortal_." The vampire sneered.

"Max is our High commander or had you forgotten?"

"Where has she been for six months? How did she survive the crash? _Did_ she survive it?"

"Are you suggesting she may be a clone?" Cassandra asked with a laugh. Jack shot her a venomous glare and rounded on Mac again.

"How could we know? And what of the two strangers with her?"

"I told you before Jack they are _not_ strangers!"

"To you! You claim they are friends, they are no more human than us but how can I and my vampires know that?'

"Oh I don't know take my word for it?" Mac growled inches from the obstinate vampire's face. Jack bared his teeth and unsheathed his fangs. Mac's fist strayed to his blade.

"Ahem." Cassandra said. The two men looked at her. 

"They have arrived." She said. 

The three turned to the door and waited expectantly. A junior officer opened the door and held it for the three newcomers.

Max was the first in. Her journey had been hard she had lost weight but gained stringy muscle. Her uniform was baggy and hung low on her hips. Her hair freshly cropped short was rough and her features were as hard and stern as ever. Her jade eyes took in the officers neutrally for a moment and then she grinned at her people. Next was Methos. He clasped forearms with Mac and embraced Cassandra warmly. Finally Simon entered.

At the sight of him Mac stiffened. 

Simon was taller than the immortals. He had the ability to change his appearance by degrees. As he had adjusted to life on the surface, as his core had renewed and strengthened he had gained height and vitality. His skin was still tanned and healthy his honey blonde hair gleamed in the flickering lighting of the room. His gunmetal eyes were ancient and mirthful, at 6'5" he towered over the others. His shirt was long gone, his pants were more like shredded cut off shorts, bare foot and bizarre he stared around the others. His hair rippled down his powerfully muscled back.

"You brought the Nephilim." Mac said. 

Simon inclined his shaggy head. Jack opened his mouth to say something and Cassandra stomped on his foot. The vampires jaw snapped shut and he glared at her.

"We welcome you Nephilim, I am Cassandra may I ask your name?" Simon grinned broadly at her.

"I am Simon of Oro, son of Kushiel, last of the Nephilim." Simon said. His voice was rich and bright. Cassandra smiled genuinely and embraced the Nephilim she kissed his cheek and murmured ancient words of welcome and fellowship. Simon answered her in the same language and called her sister. Methos who knew the language as well was surprised by Simon's confidence and grace. In all honesty he had begun to believe the big demi-human was insane.

"I am Duncan Macleod." Mac said and offered his hand the Nephilim gripped the Scot's forearm in mimicry of the gesture between Mac and Methos, but his grip was strong and sure. 

"Jack Huard leader of the vampires." Jack said coldly. Simon cocked his head at the cold greeting and then bowed slightly and turned away from the vampire. 

"Max tells me the humans are trying to kill you all." He said bluntly. Mac nodded. 

"What would you like me to do?" Simon asked his cold gray eyes did not blink.

"Uhh." Mac said intelligently he glanced at Max.

"We need time to sort things out and think Simon." Max said gently. The big man shrugged and leaned against a wall apparently content to wait.

"Have you eaten?" Cassandra asked, ever the caretaker. Max shook her head. As Cassandra left presumably to get someone cooking Jack muttered something about his men and left brusquely. Mac pulled out a few chairs and sat with his friends.

"Okay so how the hell did you get here?" Mac asked Methos.

"Ve haf vays." Methos said adopting a god-awful pseudo German accent.

"Yeah I bet." Mac grinned. The group fell to talking animatedly.

Simon watched dispassionately it was rather like watching an ant colony on a hot summer afternoon. By human standards the Nephilim was likely a psychopath. However he was not human. He did not hate or love the humanoids around him. He had a fondness for Max but it was closer to the feelings one has for a beloved pet than anything else. He knew that once long ago before the chains he had felt a more human affection but betrayal and too much alone time would take a toll on anyone. 

So he watched them with vague interest. He yawned at one point and took a more comfortable seat. Since he was incapable of being tired in the normal physical sense the yawn was more to demonstrate his own boredom. 

Cassandra arrived with a tray of food and the four chowed down, Simon politely declined and continued observing. Finally after a good five hours of solid babbling the immortals got down to business. Simon felt relief. 

The Nephilim pulled his seat closer to the others and listened closely as they began to discuss future plans.

"We have few options left." Methos began.

"Where's Huard, shouldn't he be in on this?"

"Much as I hate to admit it yes he should be." Cassandra sighed. She peered out the door and asked a door guard to locate him.

They waited for Huard and finally after a deliberately long length of time the belligerent vampire arrived. He glared at the immortals, saving an especially hostile glare for Simon. Simon merely returned the look with an empty expressionless gaze and blinked once, slowly, deliberately. 

Huard sat down and folded his arms.

"So are you like all of six years old Jack? Get your head out of your ass for like an hour." Max snapped irritated by Huard's behavior. 

"Fuck you freak." Huard snarled.

"Wow that's just awesome 'cause vampires are fucking normal." Max countered getting to her feet. Huard mimicked her movements.

"Sit down Huard you and all your kind would be dead if it wasn't for me and the rest of the people here –"

"Not him." Huard said and glared at Simon. Simon smiled slightly.

"Goddamnit Huard do you even understand what a Nephilim is?"

"No, not really I know he's not a Beta and he's not an Alpha _that_ is what I know. He's never held his dying children and friends in his arms, never been _hunted_." Jack snarled flecks of frothy spittle decorating his chin.

"Goddamnit Jack you are such an asshole, he has too! The Nephilim are the half human children of angels, did it even register with you when he said he was the _last_? They were wiped out! Annihilated! He is the last of his entire species!" Max roared. 

Jack maintained his expression of stony stubborn wrath and cut a glance at Simon. 

"What?" Jack demanded. Cassandra and Mac looked embarrassed for the vampire.

"Simon could you . . ." Max trailed off. She wasn't sure what she wanted or why she was bothering to prove anything to Jack. It would be far simpler to dispatch the vampire, demote him and promote a different vampire but . . . politics. She sighed and scrubbed her face. Jack was still staring around the room, as though daring anyone to speak. 

Simon finally stood his full frame towering over Jack's slightly smaller form. Simon smiled, it was a beneficent, kindly expression, the sort a father holding his new child might wear. He approached Jack, stood within inches of him and put his hands on the vampire's shoulders. He looked deep into the smaller man's eyes, showering him in the acceptance and glory of that smile and changed.

The wings were iridescent red now, he grew taller, broader through the shoulders, his skin was a dusky dark brown, his eyes were white hot and completely devoid of pupils his smile twisted and morphed his teeth lengthened and grew to points. Jack's face went blank and then twisted with fear.

Simon was hideous. He was gorgeous but wholly terrifying and utterly savage. He pulled Jack close. The vampire limp with primal terror did not resist. The immortals were frozen in place. 

Simon spread his wings and wrapped them tight around Jack, enfolding him and bringing him close. Flesh to flesh Simon glared down at the vampire. His wings hid the two from view. 

"Listen close little one. I am what I am I can bring life to you and yours or I can utterly destroy you all." Simon's voice was icy silk in the vampire's ears. 

"Now behave." Simon finished he pulled his wings away reduced himself and released the vampire. Jack staggered backwards, reached for a chair missed and fell on his ass. Simon stared down at him, barefoot and bizarre but normal again. The immortals slowly came back to life looking first at one another to verify all was sane and their eyes worked and then to Simon. 

Simon regained his chair and sat quietly. Silence reigned.

"Uh yeah kay thanks uh Simon." Max babbled at last. The silence broken the discussion began at last.

"Okay so what are our options?"

"Well, attrition will do us in if nothing else." Mac sighed.

"Okay what else?" Max asked. Methos smiled and filled the group in on his activities. 

"Good so they might know about us." Max said again.

"No they know that their government is too powerful, that they hide things from them, big whoop give it enough time and they'll rationalize it away." Cassandra sighed. Each of the immortals kept glancing toward Simon, as though he would go magic pumpkin on them and eat their faces.

Simon was silent patiently listening.

"Fine what then? We do not have the numbers to resist for much longer, we cannot assault them since we have no ships and the drop ships we captured self destructed. So we can't stage an offense our defenses are failing so we're fucked." Mac growled with a frown.

"So hasty." Simon said softly. All eyes turned to him. He looked up at them.

"I can help you. I can end this." It was matter-of-fact.

"But?" Jack asked having found his courage. He was still sitting on the floor.

"I've spent my existence hiding, and running. Avoiding my father and uncles, avoiding their god and his twisted vengeance . . . I don't feel them anymore. Did I tell you that Max? They're gone. Sometime when I was down in that mountain, wearing those chains . . . they left. Your god has left this place and taken his first sons with him." He said and laughed a soft infectious laugh.

"So for once . . . I'm free. " He paused in reflection.

"But if I do this for you, if I take these lives . . . there's a cost." His eyes seemed distant.

"Simon I know . . . . I . . ." Max trailed off what could she say? She knew what it cost him to take care of the Ori? She saw what it had done to him yes, but that was then a hundred years ago and a thousand lifetimes before. The man she freed, the man she brought to the surface, was not the same man who had begged to be chained, begged to be bound, to avoid taking human life, to avoid becoming an angel. What could she say?

"Max be quiet." Simon said softly but firmly. Her mouth snapped shut and she felt her cheeks darken with an embarrassed blush. 

"I don't know what will happen if I do this, it could bring . . . _them_ back and I don't want that. I don't want to hear the whisper of wings or see my father's face. So if I do this I have to change, I have to become something else. I think I might be able to become human or close to it but whatever else happens I won't be me, I won't have the power to do this again so it has to be done right the first time or we are all royally fucked." He sat quietly.

"I don't mean to be rude Simon but what, uh what is it you can do?" Cassandra asked tentatively. Simon's face darkened and his eyes grew cloudy and solid gray but he was silent. 

Cassandra opened her mouth to speak again but Max cut her off.

"He. . . I'm not sure what he does or what he can do really but once. . . . you all know about the SGC and the work done there. The Ori in particular. They weren't wiped out by a virus and they didn't pack up and leave our galaxy. Simon . . . " She trailed off and scrubbed her face she stood up and walked to the other end of the room. She faced away from the group and ran a finger along a tattered map tacked to the wall.

"He wiped them out." She said finally. There was a horrified leaden pause.

"Afterwards instead of calling him a hero and showering him with garlands . . . we locked him away. Wrapped him in chains, alone under a mountain, closed and locked nuclear blast proof doors, poured concrete in after him and once the SGC program was finished and exposed he was forgotten by everyone but me." Her voice was cold. Only Mac and Methos knew that tone, it spoke of massive grief and self loathing.

"I requested you do that Max. Demanded it."

"For a hundred years Simon?"

"A hundred years means nothing to me Max! nothing it is less than a thousandth of my life span."

"But you changed." Max said apparently hell bent on assuming the burden of blame.

"Of course I changed I wiped out an entire race of people Max, I annihilated men women and children I killed them off because I preferred that human life, my idea of human life prevail and go on. I _chose_ to do that Max, I could have taken a different path I could have waited or looked away and let you sort it out but I didn't I wiped the surface of a planet clean, scorched it and cracked the crust open to the core. I came and there was life I left and there was a smoking cinder." He snarled. He sat back and the smoke in his eyes faded, silver tears gathered in the corners. He lowered his head and the crystalline tears fell to the floor in silence. 

"Fuck me Max why didn't you say he could do that?"

"Fuck you Jack what do you want him to do? Huh? Destroy Mars?" Max roared. She was regretting it all, the stupid pointless war the struggle to survive for no reason, the endless parades of death the utter savage stupidity of it all. Why had she fought so hard for so damn long only to have it end here. Annihilation.

The only question was what race would it be?


	27. Pause

The Earth gleamed cool and green in the sunlight a new moon over the purple Martian horizon. The Earth shine lit the night. In the shadows cast by the earthlight glittering men in hard black armor drifted along silently.

It had been decided on high that actions needed to be taken to curb the rising unrest among the populace. Actions like sending in Jackal squads to quietly and efficiently disappear people. By dawn the Jackals and their prey were gone.

The newsnets ran a few notes and articles and then those too vanished replaced by notes on the system wide campaign for recruitment and successful economic steps. All was well in the system. 

On the iridescent beauty the cradle of intelligent life, things were not so smoothly organized, or well wrought. Below, chaos ruled.

Jack and Max fought, verbally first and then physically tearing and clawing at one another like animals until Mac and Cassandra separated them. Simon looked on in boredom. 

The two were separated Jack stormed off. Hours later Jack and his Vampires were on their way out of the compound. Max consumed by anger, guilt, and resentment had refused to attempt to stop them. Mac and Cassandra had done what they could, the most devoted stayed but the rest faced with the slimmest chance of surviving free of the war and the baggage of their lives had fled into Jack's new empire.

Max had reached her limit. She refused to see anyone. Her miraculous return had heartened her people, the Vampire Exodus had been a heavy blow and now Mac and Cassandra were faced with a few hundred scared and desperate immortals and an utterly terrifying otherworldly creature. 

Simon for his part looked on in bemusement. He wondered if the time came and he became more human, would any of this make sense? Would it lose its alien confusion and become familiar and timely? Would he finally understand what these desperate scurrying creatures found in one another? Or would he still be half human on the inside? Numb and brimming with contempt? Did it matter either way?

Fact was he did what he had to. Fought when he had to, ran when he had to, and now? Now he would commit suicide to keep living how darkly ironic. As he watched the immortals argue and prepare to die he felt something shift in his chest and a fire took hold. 

Max lay still and quiet. The skin on her cheeks was tight and crusted with dried tears. She was in a storage room it had been poorly converted to housing. She was on a pile of blankets. They were moth eaten and smelled dank. She stared at the roughly hewn stone ceiling and felt nothing. 

At first despair had wrapped her in a fog, swiftly followed by guilt and then a savage rage. Now she lay spent and numb, an empty wrapper on the side of the road. The door to her cubby opened and a soft wind drifted over Max's blank face and wide eyes.

A weight settled next to her and she still remained silent. A hand gripped hers and a face leaned into her vision.

"Methos." She muttered and closed her eyes. He ran a hand along her jaw she closed her eyes and pulled away.

"Max get off your ass." He whispered in her ear leaning over her. She groaned and punched him in the solar plexus. He grunted and gasped, pulling away from her he caught his breath.

"Good." He said finally. He leaned over her again and gripping her jaw forced her to face him. Her eyes were still closed.

"Max we have a plan." Her eyes opened slowly her pupils twitching and adjusting to the low ambient light. Her expression was blank.

"Liar." She whispered hoarsely. He reached for her again; she blocked his gesture and kicked him away. He rolled with the blow and got to his feet. Again he approached her again she lashed out only this time he dodged the attack and gripping her sinewy wrist dragged her to her feet and held her up right.

"You are not a child stop it Max." He snapped. She glared and struggled to break free. He pulled her close wrapping one arm around her back and holding her wrists above her head with the other he pulled her close whispered soothing things in her ear. Slowly she stopped struggling, stopped fighting and then she was still. As still as she had ever been in life, she remained that way for a few seconds and then her shoulders shook and the soft sounds of sobs drifted into the tiny space.

"Stop fucking off you idiot." Methos said tenderly. She laughed through her tears.

"Goddamnit Adam I fucked up something fierce." She said softly.

"How? Max?"

"Simon is a good man Adam in spite of everything but . . . but who am I to put him in this position? Who am I to ask him to do this . . . thing. . . again? To wipe out another race . . . and look at us, we're dying Adam all because . . . I fucked up."

"Shut up you moron the only reason any of us are alive is because of you jerk. Jack is an asshole but he does care about the vampires they'll be back. So get your ass out of here and come see what we've done." 

Max wiped at her face and scowled. 

"Unless it's a miracle Adam I don't see much changing in our immediate future." She said her tone cold and aloof. She bent and picked up an equipment belt she had abandoned. It held a pulse pistol, a packet of tools, a knife and several other items, she clipped it on and faced Methos.

"Okay smart guy lets go see your miracle." She said gruffly outwardly all was well. Adam smiled and followed her out. He knew that she could still crack and crumble like a dirt clod on a hot summer day but until then she would be a rock.

He followed her out praying that clod lasted.


	28. Sacrifice

Simon was standing in front of the exit to the cavern

Simon was standing in front of the exit to the cavern. He was a good thirty feet away and completely exposed. Max's first instinct was to step forward, shout at him, warn him to get under a tree or head for the rock piles near the entrance, anything to make it harder for an aerial to spot him. 

Mac anticipating her movement put a firm restraining hand on her forearm.

"Wait." Cassandra said.

Max stared at the older woman for a moment. The war had drained her. Literally in fact. She had learned of Cassandra's bizarre pact with Jack. Half disgusted and half admiring Max had been surprised by the other woman's willingness to sacrifice, and then ashamed of that surprise.

"What is he doing?" Max asked Methos.

"He's saving us."

"No, Methos-"

"It's his choice Max. He said… Well, he said a lot of things most of it was insane or at least unintelligible. He wants this Max, just, let it be." He said exasperated. Max clenched her jaw and wrapped her tired hands into fists but remained quiet.

"Max, don't trouble them. I don't particularly like what I've chosen to become. I thought it would be easier than before but… well, I was wrong. Your people need to be ready to run, perhaps further into the tunnels or across the open ground, I'm not sure what will happen but it will likely be destructive." He stared at her with his hostile impossible eyes and an image of a blasted landscape and cracked planetary crust filled Max's memory.

"Mac, Cass do as he says." She whispered, mouth suddenly dry, throat catching. She coughed slightly and reached for her canteen. She was very, very white.

The two older immortals were immediately obedient. Which scared Max as well. She tried to think, tried to remember when these people, who in at least two cases were thousands of years older than her began to listen to her and jump to follow her orders. She felt like a small child for a moment but hid the feeling well.

Max gave the others forty-five minutes to reach safety. Simon stared at her. She was not going to leave. She had let him do it alone once not again.

"Simon… will it kill you?"

"Possibly, maybe, probably."

"But-" She protested tears in her eyes.

"You're crying for me." It was not a question but she nodded anyway.

"Don't cry for me Max. I'm a monster. More angel than anything now. Only I haven't got a God to keep me on a chain and give me rules. I could be the dawnstar reborn in this hell hole. Did I ever tell you that they're gone? The others? I don't feel them anymore. I finally got what I wanted Max, an existence free from my father and uncles, and its driving me mad. Whatever humanity I had was frozen out of me in the belly of that mountain. If I don't do this Max, everything I ever dreamed of being, everything I wanted will be perverted and twisted. So don't cry."

"What if they're tears of joy?" She asked stubbornly as another crocodile tear traced her grimy cheek.

"You shouldn't lie to an angel." He said simply.

He stretched his arms out and leaned his head back. His fingers flexed and straightened he stretched as though on an invisible rack. The tension and unnatural silence of his movements weighed on her like a lead blanket. Slowly inexorably the pressure grew. Just as she thought she would die, her flesh rent, her veins gushing from the pressure - it stopped. He raised his impossibly limbs in to the sky and shouted one single word.

The word filled the air choking and strangling her for what felt like eternity, it filled her mouth and throat like a wildfire. She dropped to her knees. Her vision swam and grew red. The man in front of her pulsed with hideous nauseating light and the word swam and filled the world, drove into her marrow and echoed in her soul. All feeling, all knowledge all sensory information was driven away only the word remained searing her soul and gnawing at what little sanity she retained.

Then it was silent. She was on her back, the weight of the word, or Simon's power, had driven her to the ground, spread her limbs and then thrust her entire body several inches into the high mountain hard pan. She lay gasping in agony for several minutes before healing enough to move.

Slowly she rolled onto her side, coughing weakly and managed to get to her knees. She sat there on her knees. Her hands hung limp at her sides. Her chest heaved and her vision swam. Her ears ached and burned.

He was gone.

There was no sign, no scorch mark, no imprint, no impact crater, not even a lone feather.

Unbidden a tear crawled out of her redden eyes and dropped unheeded to the dusty ground.

She sat for nearly an hour, dazed incapable of real thoughts. Finally it occurred to her that she made a most delicious target sitting in a heap in the midst of a newly minted clearing right in the heart of the Earthling's hard earned territory. She struggled to her feet, and swaying like a drunk managed to get to the entrance to the cavern.

After another hour or so Methos arrived.

"I wouldn't let the others come." He said helping her to stay standing. She didn't care, was too worn to really understand his words. She simply nodded and allowed him to half carry her.

"What happened?" Methos asked.

"He said forget." She said and coughed as they re-entered the subterranean fortress.

"Forget?" Methos asked. She nodded. Methos put her to bed and called a gathering or the remaining officers.

"We need intel." He said. There were less than fifty leaders left. Some had fled with the vamps, some had been killed others had simply vanished. Fled, deserted, or worse who could tell?

"Like what?" A ragged captain demanded. The boy was still mortal but he had the look of a veteran.

"Like what the hell just happened? Why is it that we don't have eighty Jackal squads and fifty Air assault shuttles breathing down our necks right now?"

"We're too damn scary sir!" A junior lieutenant shouted from the rear of the group. Methos suppressed a smile. It was nice to know someone thought so.

"No Simon did something, we need to know what, how far its effect is, whether its permanent and how we can use it."

"Recommendations?" The same Lt. asked.

"Recon patrols. I know its shit duty but that was before now, I have a hunch we won't take a single casualty, but even if we do it's a necessary risk. That weird crazy son-of-a-bitch likely got its ass scrapped doing whatever the hell it did to buy us some time to end this shit. Least we can do is use what it gave us." Methos let the lower ranking officers deal with the logistics and details.

He made sure Mac and Cassandra stood down and headed for their bunks. He put one of the hold out vampires in nominal charge and went to get some sack time himself. He wandered around for a bit first.

Since they had bivouacked to the Cavern he had changed his sleeping place daily. He really didn't have a set place. Half the time he slept as close to the nerve center as possible but not now.

Eventually he found himself outside Max's storage room. He opened the door and peered in. She was sound asleep. He kicked his boots off and stretched out next to her. They were both fully clothed. As the tired ancient drifted to sleep Max stirred in her sleep and shifted, using his lean belly as a lumpy pillow she sighed and drifted off again. Methos rested his arm across her back, his hand tangled in her unkempt hair and slept as well.


End file.
